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A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



BY / 

MARY H. WILLS. 







■ 






NtHCST 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

1876. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by 

MARY H. WILLS, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 






THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



PREFACE. 



In the accompanying letters I have endeavored 
to give an honest and unprejudiced description of 
sights and scenes abroad, avoiding in a measure 
the stereotyped praise heaped upon everything 
foreign. My observations have mostly been con- 
fined to the people, their habits and modes of 
living. 

The four months spent in the Old World were 
rich in instruction and full of enjoyment, but I 
feel that a hasty glance was too often given where 
there should have been careful study. 

A most fortunate train of circumstances com- 
bined to render the trip a success. My compan- 
ion and myself were blessed with the traveler's 
best capital, — good health, good weather, and good 
spirits. England, all dewy and fragrant with the 
hawthorn-bloom, welcomed us in June; in July 

3 



4 PREFACE. 

we plucked the Alpenrose in Switzerland ; and 
when the heather purpled hill and dale we saw 
the land 

" Where Scotia's kings of other years, 
Famed heroes! had their royal homes." 

M. H. W. 

Norristown, Pa., 1S75. 






CONTENTS. 



I.—ON THE- OCEAN. page 

Sea-sickness— Miss Borg, the Translator— Motives for Travel 
—Off Queenstown— Sunday Morning Service on Ship- 
board ....•••••• 7 

II.— CORK— KILLARNEY— DUBLIN. 

Beauties of the Emerald Isle— Blarney Castle— The Jaunt- 
ing-Car— The Lakes of Killarney— Gap of Dunloe— 
Beggars — Irish Eccentricities . . . • • I 7 

III.— LONDON. 
Madame Tussaud's Wax-work Show — Guildhall — St. Paul's 

The Tower — Kensington Museum — English Character 

and Customs— The London " Times"— The House of 
Commons— A Day at Twickenham 33 

IV.— A DAY AT ASCOT. 
The Annual " Meeting"— The Royal Family— The Races 
and their Admirers, etc S 2 

V.— LONDON. 
The Metropolitan Tabernacle— Mr. Spurgeon— Gadshill . 59 

VL— LONDON EXPERIENCE. 

The English at Home— Covent Garden Market— The Royal 
Mews — Bank of England — Underground Railroad — The 
Art Galleries— Brighton— Isle of Wight— London Places 
of Amusement ....•••• "9 

5 



6 CONTENTS. 

VII.— A WEEK IN HOLLAND. PAGE 

Rotterdam — Dutch Babies — Amsterdam — Character of the 
Country of Holland — Broek — Zaandam — The ''Bible 
House" at Amsterdam ....... 86 

VIIL— BELGIUM— GERMANY— SWITZERLAND. 

Woman's " Rights" — Traveling in Europe contrasted with 
Traveling in America — A Glance at Antwerp, Brussels, 
Cologne, the Rhine, Frankfort, Homburg, Wiesbaden — 
The Mountains of Switzerland — A Furious Hail-storm . 97 

IX.— PARIS. 

Life in the City— The Palais Royal— Versailles— Art Attrac- 
tions — The Champ de Mars — Dress and Shopping — Pere 
la Chaise — The Morgue — Louis Napoleon's Work, etc. . 113 

X.— PARIS. 

The Catacombs — Industrial Exhibition — Theatre-Accommo- 
dations . . . . . . . . .128 

XL— PARIS. 
Postal System — Ravages of the Commune — The Louvre — 
Column Vendome — Paris Streets . . . . -135 

XII.— PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 

A Visit to Worth's — Places and Objects of Interest . . 142 

XIII.— THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Return to London — Windsor — Warwick Castle — Kenil worth 
— Stratford-upon-Avon — The Shakspeare Inn — Chatsworth 
— Feeling of the English towards America . . .156 

XIV.— SCOTLAND. 

Edinburgh — The People — Intemperance — The Trossachs — 
Lochs Lomond and Katrine — Lake Windermere . .165 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE, 



i. 



ON THE OCEAN. 



Sea-sickness— Miss Borg, the Translator— Motives for Travel- 
Off Queenstown — Sunday Morning Service on Shipboard. 

Despite the monotony of life on board a steam- 
ship, there are some diversions. Sea-sickness, in 
the first place, is a capital promoter of sociability, 
and after the ice of formality is once broken you 
become more like a pleasant company of friends 
than a party of strangers. It is all very well when 
on land to sing " out on the ocean so boundless 
and free," but once there your buoyancy decreases, 
and the hardest, sharpest pangs come when you 
think of those at home ; and the remembrance 
of the tearful faces which from the wharf wave a 
long good-by has any other than an exhilarating 
effect. From their despairing words you might 

7 



3 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

think all on land immortal, and that only those 
who " go down to the sea in ships" encounter 
danger. 

The cabin was gay and redolent with beautiful 
bouquets and baskets of flowers, soon carelessly 
cast aside and faded. Our state-room revived 
home recollections for many days, although the 
modest bunch which there shed fragrance was not 
a model of the florist's art, but we knew it had 
been gathered and arranged by one whose heart 
was very tender and whose eyes were dewy with 
unshed tears. 

In the inevitable sea-sickness which comes, all 
sense of danger is forgotten, and as there are some 
scenes which must be seen to be appreciated, this 
peculiar disease must be felt to be understood. It 
comes without any symptoms, is sharp and ter- 
rific, and departs without any convalescence. I 
heard a story once of a young man who said, after 
taking a young lady out sailing, that " he had no 
idea there was so much in her." I thought it a 
very clever joke at the time, but I never fully saw 
the moral of the tale until now. 

This state of semi-invalidism is an excuse for 
the most absolute laziness I ever saw. You have 



ON THE OCEAN. g 

no duties, and all day long when it is fair you sit 
on deck and watch the clouds and waves ; but at 
night, when you remember your helpless condi- 
tion, the frailness of your bark, and the treacherous 
water which dashes so tempestuously around, — 
ah, who could be careless and thoughtless at that 
solemn hour? The vessel rolls and pitches in 
obedience to the billows, the machinery creaks 
and groans, and above all is heard the shrill 
voice of the sentinel as he proclaims, " All is 
well." 

Among our passengers is Mons. Caubert, the 
French Commissioner to the Centennial Exhibi- 
tion, who is returning home after a stay of but 
eight days in our country; but during that limited 
period he has visited our principal cities, and 
returns to report to his government the impres- 
sions he has received. 

The most notable woman we have aboard is 
Miss Selma Borg, well known as the translator of 
Swedish and Finnish novels. She goes for the 
summer to her home in Finland. We find her a 
talented, warm-hearted woman, full of enthusiasm 
in regard to America and her institutions, yet 
always mindful of her people and her native land. 



IO A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

She goes to labor for the Centennial cause, to 
arouse her countrymen to the importance of their 
having a proper representation at that time. 
Despite the apathy of the Russians on the sub- 
ject, she is determined that Finland shall send 
specimens of her arts and manufactures. " How 
shall I go to my family," she said, in her beautiful 
patois, "how satisfy them about your great land? 
They will ask me of your government, your public 
schools, woman's suffrage, social science, and all 
the great topics of the times; and although I have 
been among you fifteen years, they have been so 
crowded with work, that I feel I know nothing 
thoroughly." 

Miss Borg is a strong, vigorous thinker, a 
woman of large heart and intellect. She is an 
ardent reformer and searcher after the truth. In 
connection with Miss Marie A. Brown, she has 
translated the novels of Madame Schwartz and 
Gnstav Adolph, and has lately made a collection 
of the lays of Sweden and Finland, which are full 
of feeling and replete with melodic sweetness and 
beauty. The weird character of the songs of the 
Norsemen as interpreted by the Swedish Nightin- 
gales, Jenny Lihd and Christine Nilsson, has 



ON THE OCEAN. ! j 

created in our continent a desire for their transla- 
tion, and Miss Borg has given them to us in all 
their wild, quaint, plaintive beauty. 

She tells us much that is new, interesting, and 
instructive concerning Finland: of the days which 
commence at two o'clock in the morning and last 
until ten at night, of the fierce cold of the winter, 
and the warm, beautiful summer, when in three 
months they sow the seed, have the blossom, the 
fruit, and the harvest. She describes her people, 
so primitive in their habits, simple in their tastes, 
and noble, honest, and loving. But she expresses 
her determination to spend the remainder of her 
days in the land of her adoption. Her lines have 
fallen in pleasant places, for she has made friends 
with the Quakers of Philadelphia. But no lan- 
guage of mine can express her enthusiasm of 
words and manner when she speaks of the " dear 
people among whom I passed my time." Her 
compaguon de voyage is a countryman, Mr. Fager- 
strom, a genuine specimen of the men of the 
Norseland. He has spent seven years in America 
in the study of machinery, and goes home to put 
in practice the knowledge he has gained. But I 
think there lurks in his heart a fear that he will 



I2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

not be content, after the hurry and enterprise in 
which he has so long mingled. 

The Americans are described as a wandering 
people ; and really traveling instead of satisfying 
them seems to create an insatiate desire. Nearly 
all of our passengers have crossed the ocean be- 
fore. One gentleman is making his forty-first trip. 
The various objects they have in view are freely 
discussed-. The majority are bent on pleasure. 
One lady, inclined to obesity, announces that she 
is going abroad because they walk so much more 
there than in America; although why her limbs 
could not be used for that purpose in her own 
land she does not explain. Another, because her 
daughter is never well excepting on the Continent. 
And still another, the mother of a beautiful girl, 
tells us, with an air of solemnity, that she is taking 
the dear girl away to prevent an engagement. A 
dignified-looking matron, whose life seems given 
to wandering, gravely announces that after living 
in Europe a person is never content anywhere 
else; to which our hearts respond, in the solemn 
language of the Litany, " Deliver us." 

When you receive this letter from sea, you may 
know we are on land, and, that land being Ireland, 



ON THE OCEAN. l ^ 

a " bull" is the first thing in order. We expect to 
learn but little new or surprising concerning the 
people of Erin. Opportunities at home have not 
been lacking to enable us to gain a thorough 
knowledge of their characteristics. But we want 
to see the Irishman on his native heath, in "the 
beautifulest counthry in the wurruld, ma'am," to 
study the surroundings which fit him to despise 
all but the best after he lands on our shores, and 
to hear genuine Milesian wit and humor exercised 
at other expense than pur own. What our im- 
pressions are you shall know, with naught set 
down in malice. 

Our hearts grow very full when we think of the 
miles of tempestuous water between us. We have 
left our treasures among you, and where they are 
there are our fondest thoughts. We can only be 
hopeful that the months before us may be marred 
by no untoward circumstance, but be rich in inci- 
dent and instruction, the fruition of years of desire. 
And until we see you all, dear friends, let us say, 
in the language of Tiny Tim, " God bless us 
every one!" 

Our watches mark seven o'clock Philadelphia 



I4 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

time, but the bell sounds the hour for morning 
service, and we assemble quickly and quietly in 
the saloon. The tables are spread with prayer- 
books, and, there being no clergyman on board, 
the captain conducts the service. 

Free to all, the steerage passengers come troop- 
ing in, a motley crew indeed. Men worn out with 
disease and labor, who are going home to England 
to die; women whose only success in the States 
has been the raising of three or four children ; 
girls, dirty and unkempt, and the attendants of the 
ship, are all gathered in. Israelites we have 
among us, who sit beside the Gentiles, and Catho- 
lics who reverently bow to the service of the 
Established Church. And is it not fitting that we 
all mingle to-day on common ground? Our perils 
have been shared alike', and not only this port to 
which we are now destined, but our eternal haven 
is the one desired by all wayfarers, and the words 
of the gospel break upon our ears with a clearness 
and conviction hitherto unfelt : " And now abideth 
faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of 
these is charity!' Then comes the familiar hymn, 
melodious, yet a blending of untaught voices. 
Men unused to the outward form of worship first 



ON THE OCEAN. jr 

hum softly, then join with heartiness. A tear 
seems trembling in some lines, yet the strain goes 
on, and each one feels " Nearer, my God, to Thee." 
One poor woman, whose face tells a tale of sorrow 
and it may be privation, but whom nature has 
gifted with a powerful soprano voice, lifts it rever- 
ently up and sings from memory each hymn. 

O ye who safely sit in church and hear your 
rector send up the petition to the " Eternal God 
who rulest the raging of the sea," however heartily 
you may join and fervently respond to it, you will 
never know its full significance until you are on 
the restless ocean, without a thing to gladden the 
eye, the tempestuous billows tossing around you, 
and the sky calm, beautiful, yet afar off over all. 
When your hearts are attuned to the solemn mur- 
mur of the waves, then, and then alone, will you 
understand the petition for " safe conduct to the 
haven where you would be." 

The sea is rich in gems and ores which she has 
engulfed in her treacherous bosom, the lofty and 
the lowly are on one plane when she is lashed into 
fury, and the living freight which to-day she bears 
upon her breast carry with them a wealth of love 
and hopes, the measure of which is untold. 



j6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

Captain Clark tells us that his practiced olfac- 
tories already discover the land-breeze. We take 
his word therefor, but, Yankee-like, " guess" his 
log has quickened his sensibilities. At Queens- 
town we expect to leave the " Indiana," and, while 
we cannot profess regret, we will waft her gay 
" good-byes" as she goes on her way, and " praise 
the bridge which carried us safely over." 



IT. 



CORK — KILLARNEY DUBLIN. 

Beauties of the Emerald Isle — Blarney Castle — The Jaunting- 
Car — The Lakes of Killarney — Gap of Dunloe — Beggars — 
Irish Eccentricities. 

Dr. Johnson has defined a ship as a prison in * 
which there is a chance of drowning. This seems 
an exaggerated comparison ; but really no one 
ever feels the sense of freedom more fully than 
when the feet once more press the land after an 
ocean passage. To do once more as you will, and 
in comparative security, — oh, it fills you with a 
strange delight. 

We had little to complain 'of. Our voyage had 
been calm and pleasant, without the least sign of 
danger from outside causes. We had formed new 
and pleasant acquaintances. Yet on Monday 
morning, May 31, when we awoke to the glad 
tidings "land in sight," all hearts were light and 
faces bright. 

17 



jg A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

Our companions gayly waved us adieu from the 
steamer as we took the tug for Queenstown, which 
soon reached, our feet for the first time pressed 
Irish soil. 

We sailed up the river Lee for Cork ; and my 
pen almost falters when I attempt to convey to 
you some idea of the beauty of its shores. The 
" Emerald Isle" is rightly named, and as far as the 
eye reaches is a gem of purest ray and a scene of 
quiet bewildering loveliness. The foliage is of a 
bright peculiar shining green, not a leaf stirring, 
no underbrush or stunted trees, and the hedges, 
the only dividing line, gay with bloom and sweet 
with perfume. You cannot imagine the delicacy 
and beauty of the hawthorn, completely covered 
as it is with white, pink, and mottled blossoms, 
nor describe the yellow fringe of the graceful 
laburnum and stout furze, which give such infinite 
variety to the landscape. Every house, however 
humble, is overgrown with ivy and rose-embow- 
ered ; -every lawn is smoothly shaven and as fresh 
as though the rain had just ceased. The roses 
here grow to a height and size unknown with us, 
and the gardens are at least a month earlier than 
our own. Fuchsias, geraniums, lobelias, nastur- 



CORK—KIL LAKNE 3 r — D UDL ZA r . T g 

tions, wall-flowers, and several quite new to me, 
are most generally cultivated. 

What most strikes a stranger is the desolation 
of the country so far as inhabitants are concerned. 
There appears to be no middle class in life, or if 
there is they have no homes, for the land is divided 
into immense estates, owned by noblemen, who 
spend their time in London, and whatever labor is 
performed is by tenantry who live in the most 
abject poverty. Their houses are but one story 
high and straw-thatched, with pigs, chickens, 
goats, and the ever-faithful donkey in close prox- 
imity. In case of fire a pool of water which is 
near the door would be found very convenient. 
But the cities are filled to overflowing, and you 
will fail to form an adequate idea of the vast con- 
glomeration of vice, rags, poverty, and riches they 
contain, until you visit Ireland. It impressed us 
as a world deserted by all save a few left to beg 
and show the country to strangers. And yet there 
is a sort of justice in the matter when you come 
to consider how many foreigners annually flock to 
our shores to attend to our domestic and industrial 
interests, while we traverse so many weary miles 
to see the land they have quitted. Croakers are 



20 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

wont to prophesy that the time is coming when we 
will be overrun with aliens. Should this prove true 
and their rule become unbearable, I know of no 
better refuge than the sea-side counties of Ireland, 
for they are absolutely depopulated. The people 
tell you that Pat in his own home, and the same 
individual after he returns from Amcriky, are won- 
derfully different individuals. Here he is civil, 
obliging, polite, and deferential. Need I photo- 
graph him when transplanted ? The truth is, he 
has been a subject so long he deports himself 
most royally when he comes to be a sovereign. 

Cork, one of the principal cities, is just such a 
place as you would think an Irishman would build 
when left to his own taste and devices. It claims 
to belong to no school or mediaeval age of archi- 
tecture. Poverty and riches are side by side 
everywhere. The streets are so narrow and 
crooked that it must have been design, and the 
houses of all styles are dirty and smoky. Beggars 
barefooted and ill-looking ply their vocation in 
the principal business streets ; fish-women expose 
their commodities on the sidewalks; donkey-carts 
jostle cabs ; old women appeal to your sympathy 
and attempt to delude you to purchase trinkets, 



CORK—KIL LARNE Y-D UB L IN. 



21 



and knots of great able-bodied men stand idly 
around. In attendance on almost every donkey- 
cart are at least three stalwart fellows, and there is 
such a strange incongruity between their size and 
that of the poor little beast who pulls them, beside 
his load, that you feel strongly inclined to advise 
them to change places with him for a while. One 
thought struck me : in this country, which is justly 
celebrated for the production of such good and 
beautiful stockings, fully three-fourths of the peo- 
ple wear none; but no matter how ragged or dirty 
they may be, their clothing often consisting of but 
a single garment, they all this June weather wrap 
themselves in a stout blanket shawl or cloth cloak. 
But few of the poorer class of women even in the 
cities wear bonnets, and boys and girls alike pre- 
sent a marvelous combination of rags, dirt, and 
unkempt hair. This peculiar unsuitableness of 
dress is not confined to people of low degree. As 
there is but little variation of climate, the seasons 
bring about but little change of clothing, and 
many a lady have I seen this pleasant summer 
weather attired in lawn or linen who has increased 
her comfort by the addition of a sealskin sacque. 
They seem always to be expecting it to get cold. 

3 



22 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

Velvet skirts with percale over-dresses are quite 
common, and merinoes are worn with white lace 
capes. Some day when not so hurried I intend to 
describe some of the unique toilettes which I am 
now seeing. I take pride in saying that the most 
genteelly- dressed women I have seen are my own 
countrywomen. In a word, the choicest produc- 
tions of the Old World seem to be made on pur- 
pose for the luxurious people of America, who, as 
an Irish lady told me, " are all rich." I sighed 
plaintively and wished it true. 

After having seen Cork, the most approved 
thing is an excursion to Blarney Castle, a tumble- 
down ruin, five miles distant. At home a man 
likes to improve his house, takes pride therein ; 
here, the more miserable and dilapidated, the 
greater boast and fortune. You start out to secure 
your conveyance, satisfied that you are going to 
be cheated, when you find the prices collapse 
and expand according to your endurance. You 
parley and turn away, thankful at having escaped, 
but Pat turns up at the corner you least expect 
him, and wheedles and flatters you until you make 
a bargain. Mis rapacity is boundless. Give him 
his price, and he will still beg you for an extra 



CORK—KILLARNE Y—D UBLIN. 2 3 

sixpence. Now, your initial ride in a jaunting- 
car is rather a serious matter, and requires careful 
consideration. It is embraced under two heads : 
first, how to get in ; and next, will you, when once 
in, be able to stay there? A little practice on a 
wood-horse before leaving home would most likely 
give you ease, grace, and confidence ; but, as she 
who deliberates is lost, you mount up in a sort of 
rectangular way, brace your feet firmly, and, grasp- 
ing the seat with one hand, keep the other disen- 
gaged to ward off danger. Part with any extra 
piece of raiment ere you relinquish your hold, for 
once lost it is never regained, as this style of riding 
is the most positive kind of exercise you can un- 
dergo. The driver jumps on and off regardless of 
speed, and whistles and chirps to his poor tired 
beast in a manner comical and entertaining. But 
the scene around you is so new and beautiful that 
you soon lose all sense of personal discomfort and 
enjoy yourself heartily. Pat does his best to ex- 
plain, but so rich is his brogue that scarce one 
word in twenty can you understand. The infinite 
variety of the flowers astonishes you ; they grow 
in such beauty and luxuriance, even by the road- 
side ; they are under your feet; you can pluck 



24 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

them on every side ; and as far as the eye can 
reach, nothing but starry blossoms. You inquire 
the name of some plant not familiar to you, and 
instantly the horse is checked, and, with a look of 
wonderful intelligence and head thrust inquiringly 
to one side, Pat proclaims, " Indade, ma'am, I can't 
just make out." You make a suggestion, and 
whether right or wrong he seizes upon it, and, 
with as much assurance as though a descendant of 
Linnaeus, proclaims you. are right. 

But we are not getting to Blarney Castle, which 
was built in the fifteenth century, and but little 
now remains except the massive donjon and walls. 
Here is said to be the famous Blarney Stone, 
which endows whoever kisses it with the sweet, 
persuasive, wheedling eloquence so perceptible in 
the language of the people of Cork. I am like 
Washington Irving, who was always of easy faith 
in such matters and ever willing to be deceived 
where the deceit is pleasant and costs nothing, so 
I gave an attentive ear to the recital of the virtues 
of this marvelous stone. 

Our next stopping-place was by the famous 
Lakes of Killarney, and I will describe their 
beauty by comparison alone, for after nature has 



CORK—KILLARNE Y—D UBLIN. 2 5 

arrived at a certain state of grandeur and romantic 
loveliness there can nothing surpass the scene. 
So when I say these far-famed lakes equal our 
own Lake George I can bestow no higher praise. 
The banks are thickly wooded, the waters clear as 
a mirror and almost undisturbed by a ripple, and 
the bosom dotted with such innumerable islands 
as to form a most enchanting scene. The boat- 
man gives you the names and history, legendary 
and romantic and imaginary, of ruined castle and 
abbey; points out the spots remarkable for deeds 
of prowess and renown, and makes a narrative 
rich with characteristic brogue and enthusiasm. 

The most notable excursion in the neighbor- 
hood is that to the Gap of Dunloe, a wild, mount- 
ainous pass, remarkable for the magnificence of its 
scenery, height and peculiar appearance of the 
mountains, clearness and beauty of the echoes, 
and importunities of the beggars. This entertain- 
ment is a tripartite agreement (how handy the 
word !) between guides, ponies, and boatmen to 
render life as uncomfortable as possible for several 
hours. You ride for five miles in a jaunting-car 
and are met by what the natives out of compli- 
ment call ponies, which you are instructed to 
3* 



2 6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

mount. It was evidently the editor's initial per- 
formance in the equestrian line, but the erectness 
of his carriage and dignified manner in which he 
handled the reins fully justified my expectations, 
and had he not so completely won my heart a 
score of years ago this day's achievements would 
have completed the conquest, — not that I take 
special pride in my portion of the day's proceed- 
ings, for my position was one of masterly in- 
activity, and the gray mare which I rode, instead 
of justifying the proverb and being the better 
horse, was both obstinate and lazy, but with one 
before to lead and another behind to goad, the 
journey was accomplished with an unexpected 
degree of comfort. My squire was a character, — 
almost every Irishman is, — and told me he was 
saving his money to go to America, and had all 
but fifteen shillings, but the ladies of my country 
were so good he hoped soon to have enough. This 
unexpected information was accompanied by a be- 
seeching glance, but I was deaf and blind. " Do 
you not find some very timid riders ?" I queried. 
"Yes, ma'am; but then the boys takes pertickeler 
good care of them," uttered with an air of sim- 
plicity worth about another extra sixpence. 



CORK—KIL L A RNE Y—D UBL IN. 



27 



But the beggars of that route beggar all descrip- 
tion. They creep from under the hedges, start from 
the corners, rush out of the houses, and beset and 
irritate you at every turn. All sorts of wares and 
relics are offered for your inspection; but the only 
purchase I felt inclined to make was a "shillelah," 
that I might instantly test its merits. Women, 
bareheaded and shoeless, despite the sharp stones, 
follow you for a half-mile, the everlasting blanket 
shawl gayly floating in the wind. At one time I 
counted six children in pursuit, screaming vocifer- 
ously for " money to buy a book." There is evi- 
dent complicity on the part of the driver, who 
generally slackens the speed of his beast when 
these vagrants appear, and who in obedience to 
our command struck wickedly at them, but man- 
aged to hit none. 

When about half-way, you approach a small 
cottage, and 

" Oh have ye not heard of Kate Kearney, 
Who lived on the banks of Killarney ?" 

But I am sorry to say the descendant who now 
occupies the place has not inherited her charms, 
nor her witching manners, but is a very common- 



2 8 .A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

place-looking old Irishwoman in petticoat and 
short gown, who importunes you, for the memory 
of her ancestor, to taste goat's milk, which, it is 
scarce necessary to tell you, we declined. 

Your credulity must be still further stretched 
when you come to Black Lough, for this is the 
identical spot where St. Patrick of blessed mem- 
ory banished the last snake from Ireland. "Ah," 
said a "rale ould Irish gintleman" to me, "had he 
destroyed the serpent which is eating the bone 
and sinew of our land, how much greater his 
work !" You know the old saying, — 

" Black Jacks at gentle buttry bars, 
Whose liquors oftentimes breed household wars." 

From the lower classes I find many inquiries 
concerning America, for all have brother, son, or 
sister there, who are supposed to be amassing 
great fortunes out of the wonderful wages they 
receive in that El Dorado. A servant-girl here 
and in England receives not quite a dollar a week, 
and as we sailed up the Lee I noticed laborers at 
work, though it was but six a.m. 

Another thing I have noticed. They have a 
most peculiar way of planting vegetables. Be- 



CORK—KILLARNE Y— DUBLIN. 



29 



tween every four rows they dig a trench, to allow 
" the air to reach the roots," as they say. So 
when next an Irishman digs your garden tell him 
to pattern after the " ould country," and see if 
there will not be an improvement in the produc- 
tion. The bread and butter are delightful, the 
former light and sweet, the latter fresh and en- 
tirely without salt ; and the table-linen such as to 
make a housewife envious. 

Nearly all the hotels in Ireland are kept by 
women, dames of mature years, severe in counte- 
nance and stiff in rustling black silk, with '* cap 
and feather high," who receive you with becoming 
dignity and issue their commands for your com- 
fort in imperious tones to a small army of clerks 
who utter the impudence which their mistress's 
looks imply. The Americans are the natural prey * 
of this class, who impose upon them without 
mercy. They unblushingly tell you they have 
one price for strangers and another for them- 
selves. 

A lady from New York said that her party 
were riding along in a jaunting-car, congratu- 
lating themselves on what we would call "cutting 
a fine figure," but in English parlance " looking 



3 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

particularly smart," when a couple of ragged 
urchins crawled out from the hedge to inspect 
them, and, having scanned them from top to toe, 
the one nodded his head and uttered the signifi- 
cant remark, "American all through." 

Yet in the face of these impositions, which are 
known and commented upon, there are persons so 
lost to every feeling patriotic and true that they 
cannot be contented at home and think nothing 
so desirable as life abroad. 

Plow any one can travel here as economically 
as set forth in the guide-books I am at a loss to 
imagine, without they take the plan proposed by 
a wag of sleeping all day to save your board and 
walking all night to save lodging. 

In Dublin we found dry-goods fully as expen- 
sive as at home, and no desirable variety to select 
from, and the squares, about the only attraction 
in the city, are kept locked, a privileged few hav- 
ing keys. 

Facts are stubborn things ; and when we know 
some things to be true which we have heretofore 
considered idle rumors, we must almost acknowl- 
edge the justice of Kate Field's pungent remark, 
that "either all Americans are fools, or all the 



C0RK—K1L LARNE Y—D UBLIN. 3 t 

fools go to Europe," a fact which gives us special 
comfort just now. We meet so many parties 
composed of ladies, mature and young, dressed in 
mourning, that the thought will intrude itself, 
Have they come abroad to assuage grief, or has 
the death of substantial stay-at-home paterfamilias 
furnished them with the means for enjoyment? 

What we desire in this brief holiday tour is the 
experience of travel, that knowledge which can 
never be acquired except by actual contact with 
people, and a careful study of their manners and 
customs, together with an insight into the institu- 
tions of the country. 

We know the sun shines upon no land so 
great as our own, that our people are as refined 
and cultivated as you meet elsewhere, with every 
convenience at home and in traveling to make 
life infinitely more comfortable than you find here; 
and while we mean to search for and enjoy the 
works of art which it has taken years and thou- 
sands of lives and treasure to produce, yet each 
day we are filled anew with thankfulness that we 
claim the protection and privileges of the best 
country the world now knows. 

We have made a slight change in our pro- 



32 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



gramme of travel as first laid down. The ini- 
tiated tell us that Scotland is quite deserted by 
the nobility, and as it may be our only chance of 
contact with them we shall hie to London, where 
it is now the height of the season, with all the 
great exhibitions and show-places at their best. 
So, leaving the country with its sweets of bud and 
blossom, we shall go to take a peep at the wonders 
of the metropolis of the world. 



III. 



LONDON. 

Madame Tussaud's Wax-work Show — Guildhall — St. Paul's — The 
Tower — Kensington Museum — English Character and Customs 
— The London "Times" — The House of Commons — A Day 
at Twickenham. 

Sight-seeing is hard work, but it is an immense 
satisfaction to realize the reading of a life-time, to 
come in contact with men, women, and places 
whose names are household words with us, and 
to enjoy the hospitality of the people who have a 
far more highly organized system of domestic 
service than we, greater wealth, and a regular 
graduated system of society. 

We have not yet become accustomed to the 
finish and perfection of everything here, mellowed 
down and beautified by father Time. We can 
never have the green turf or lovely flowers of 
England ; our torrid summers and frigid winters 
forbid it; we must get our beauty in other things, 
4 33 



34 



A SUMMER JN EUROPE. 



and leave to them the peerless enamel of green 
grass, brilliant flowers, gray ruins, and graceful 
twining ivy. 

To say how London opens to us would be to 
write a history. First, the city itself, — the great- 
ness, the magnificence, the gay courtly life, the 
historical points, and the seemingly inexhaustible 
stores of museum, picture-gallery, library, church, 
abbey, and tower. 

But I am done generalizing; I mean to tell 
you how we inaugurated our campaign of sight- 
seeing by going to Madame Tussaud's great wax- 
work show, where we involuntarily stumbled over 
the old gentleman who sits so deliberately in the 
way and almost begged his pardon before we 
found he was wax, and gazed upon the sleeping 
beauty who breathes so mechanically, uncon- 
scious that the matron who stands curiously at 
our side is also a base presentment. In this unique 
collection America is well represented, and, while 
the figures are good, personal recollection and 
candor force us to admit that some of the like- 
nesses are lamentable failures. 

Next we went to Guildhall, where the Lord 
Mayor sits in his chair of state, entered the va- 



LONDON. nc 

rious rooms designed to hold minor courts, and 
crept into the cellar, for there was nothing too 
low or too lofty for our omnivorous appetites, and 
saw the great ovens where are cooked the mon- 
strous rounds of beef for the annual dinner; then 
turned to St. Paul's, the stately pile, with its me- 
morials to soldiers, sailors, philosophers, lawyers, 
painters, poets, and but one philanthropist, until 
we stopped before the tomb of its great architect, 
Sir Christopher Wren, and pondered over the in- 
scription to one who planned this mighty work 
and lived over ninety years, not for himself alone 
but for the public good. 

We then wended our way to the Tower, the 
saddest of all places in London, for to us it is not 
the monument of great but of cruel deeds, and has 
been the abode of those who suffered not only for 
liberty but for truth's sake. We stepped into the 
dreary, damp, unwholesome cell where Raleigh 
spent many sad moments, and paused to look at 
the spot once red with the blood of the unfortu- 
nate Dudley, whose crime consisted in being the 
husband of a noble lady. Here too closed the 
earthly career of beautiful Anne Boleyn, who 
united with " the innocence of childhood the so- 



36 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



lidity of middle, the gravity of old age, and the 
life of a saint;" who heard her dire sentence with- 
out a murmur save that addressed to her God, 
" Thou knowest I have not deserved this death." 
In the cells you may read the inscriptions wrung 
out from grief-stricken hearts, yet in their sadness 
the solace of long weary hours. Oh, England is 
a great and powerful nation, the mother of a long 
line of kings and heroes, and in this treasure-house 
she gathers her trophies, but surely the blood 
which she has caused to be shed in ministering to 
her might will one day be required at her hands. 
Here are the records of her most warlike age, — 
knights cap-a-pie, and horses in armor, spears, 
swords, and shields, and all the paraphernalia of 
war, burnished and arranged with taste and care 
(could we forget their use !), arms left on many a 
field which was conquered and subject to the 
might of her royal will ; specimens of arms from 
India, Australia, Japan, but none from Yorktown. 
Everything to tell the tale of victory and sadness 
is here preserved. 

Next we attempted the Kensington Museum, 
and that in itself is a liberal education, for what- 
ever of curious china, gems, antiquities, pictures, 



LONDON: 27 

or object of art any collector possesses, naturally 
gravitates there. No human strength can compass 
it in less than a week, for it is a square full of 
treasures, which, like the hairs of your head, are 
all numbered, but who can count them ? The 
value of this collection cannot be estimated, for 
once lost or destroyed they could never be re- 
placed. We loitered and gazed until, eyes worn 
out and feet weary, we strayed into the refresh- 
ment-room, unique in its kind, where they cook 
your steak before your eyes. Shall I tell what a 
merry party we were suddenly metamorphosed 
into, and how one bent on deception determined 
to appear thoroughly English by calling for cheese 
and mustard which she washed down with a mug 
of " 'alf and 'alf" ? Or how nearly a beefsteak 
came to separating man and wife, for the editor 
stubbornly clung to roast beef, while I preferred 
"grill," which fact necessitated a total dissolution 
for the time being; but having heard while on the 
steamer one who combined the wisdom and sa- 
gacity of an owl demonstrate to the entire com- 
pany that it was ordained by God and man that 
woman should be subservient to the male persua- 
sion, I succumbed, and took beef, bread, and Bath 



38 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



bun, carefully counting- the cost, for economy is 
the rule and not the exception here ; but one and 
all registered a vow that if ever again they had 
the infinite variety of an American hotel fare to 
choose from, they would eat the whole bill 
through, beginning with soup and ending with 
toothpicks. 

The Britons deem themselves most excellent 
economists, and are wont to declare everything 
"frightfully dear." At their meals they neither 
have nor desire any quantity of vegetables or 
fruits. Beef, mutton, salad which they eat with 
salt alone, bread, and beer first, last, and always. 
No matter how scant the rest may be, men, 
women, and children have beer; so that I, who 
from principle and inclination drink nothing of 
the kind, am a sort of curiosity to them. But, I 
tell it with pride, they declare the women of our 
nation to be models of abstemiousness. 

The ignorance and curiosity of the people con- 
cerning America and her customs are, when you 
consider the constant intercourse, a most incom- 
prehensible thing. Fancy our landlady buying 
pork because she thought it would be a rarity to 
us ! Of a truth they seem rather loth to believe 



LONIWN. 



39 



any stories of the improvements, conveniences, 
and greatness of our land. 

Crossing Wales, a gentleman pointed out the 
Menai Suspension Bridge as a great curiosity 
to us foreigners, dwelling upon its wonders and 
merits, and advised a study of the structure, which 
has a stretch between the piers of five hundred 
and fifty feet. I let him tell his story in the 
hesitating English way, admired its beauty and 
strength, then incidentally described the size and 
cost of the bridges across the Mississippi at Quincy 
and St. Louis; but, as Dogberry says, "compari- 
sons were odorous." 

I expect in our constant walks and drives to 
parks, fetes, and places of amusement, we see many 
of the peers of the realm, but as our republican 
education has taught us only to distinguish na- 
ture's noblemen, we allow these golden opportuni- 
ties to pass unimproved. At Madame Nilsson's 
concert, at the Albert Memorial Hall, we saw 
gathered together the flower and beauty of the 
day. It was a thoroughly English scene. First 
the massive and magnificent carriage with coro- 
neted panels, and well-groomed, high-bred horses. 
" Jeems" and the lacquey upon the box, their hair 



40 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

powdered or curled, and their well-developed 
calves nicely done up in silk stockings and knee- 
breeches, are wonderfully agile considering their 
dignity. They jump down and you see " my lady." 
But every one must be disappointed in their beauty, 
for the very conformation which makes the men so 
handsome renders the women to our eyes heavy 
and coarse. And then their horrid style of dress- 
ing would disfigure Venus herself. But this I 
suppose is treason, for the feeling of reverence for 
royalty and nobility is genuine, and any place 
consecrated by their touch is sacred. In the 
churches on Sunday go up the most fervent and 
repeated prayers for the preservation of the Queen 
and her family, while the people, who have all the 
temptations and most of the transgressions, are 
dismissed with a mere mention. Surely, said a 
very clever lady to me, you do not compare your 
distinguished men with the successors of a long 
line of kings and nobles ? Ah, no, my heart re- 
sponded; with us a man's education, actions and 
efforts fit him for any station and deservedly gain 
him fame; it would be great injustice to compare 
him to the weak and effeminate successor of a line 
of wicked and dissolute kings. I notice in West- 



LONDON. Ai 

4 1 

minster Abbey that they who glance hastily at the 
marble effigies of royalty linger longest and most 
lovingly in the poets' corner, and surely those 
names were what they made them. 

We have presented the letters so kindly given 
us by friends at home, and have in every case 
received courtesy and attention. We have no 
mission, political, religious, or literary ; we repre- 
sent nobody but ourselves ; yet in every case they 
are unexpectedly so kind and cordial that we 
no longer feel like " strangers in a strange land." 
The introduction of the valued Philadelphia cor- 
respondent of the London Times opened that great 
establishment for our inspection, and Mr. Mac- 
donald, the manager, left the business by which 
we knew he was surrounded to personally conduct 
us through the building, and explained the various 
labor-saving machines employed in getting out an 
edition of the paper. 

There are about one hundred and fifty persons 
at work in the mechanical preparation of the 
Times. There are two daily editions issued, the 
second going to press at one o'clock p.m. Its im- 
mense circulation consumes forty reels of paper, 
each reel containing four miles, or a total of one 



42 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



hundred and sixty miles of paper each day. The 
paper is " set up" with types made in the office, 
the forms or pages being stereotyped for the 
presses. The latter are seven in number, of the 
Walter pattern, or invention, and are capable of 
printing twelve thousand papers per hour. It was 
one o'clock when we were there, and we witnessed 
a press in operation at this speed. Mr. Macdonald 
informed us that he was the inventor of this supe- 
rior machine, the first of which was in use in 
1866, a whole year before any one not connected 
with the office knew of its existence. He has 
since made valuable improvements in it. They are 
manufactured under his personal supervision in 
the machine-shop connected with the Times build- 
ing. Mr. Macdonald says these presses perform 
the work of those previously in use with a saving 
of fifty thousand dollars annually. They have 
manufactured twenty-seven of these machines. 
About six pages of the Times are nightly set by 
five type-setting machines, but the most of this 
kind of work is done by hand. The wooden 
stands containing the type-cases had been in use 
one hundred and three years y and when we say that 
the galleys, imposing-stones, and other imple- 



LONDON. 43 

ments, more familiar to printer readers, had the 
appearance of like age, they can easily form a cor- 
rect idea of the internal (I had almost said eternal) 
condition of the office. We were informed, how- 
ever, that new furniture would be placed in the 
new building, soon to be completed. There are 
to be seen the telegraph instruments usually found 
in first-class daily newspaper offices, but the reader 
of the Times , notwithstanding one number will 
sometimes give twenty pages of reading-matter 
(including advertisements) as large as the New 
York Tribune, will seldom see in it anything like 
the quantity of telegraphic news given in Ameri- 
can papers. Like the London papers generally 
the Times contains no large display-type adver- 
tisements, thus putting all its patrons on an equal- 
ity in this particular. The custom is a very wise 
one, and will eventually be generally adopted by 
newspaper publishers. We observed a person 
writing an index, or table of contents, and were 
told by Mr. Macdonald that this had been done 
with every issue of the paper since the year 1833, 
advertisements alone being excepted. The edition 
is nearly all sold to agents, who dispose of it to 
carriers and other retailers in every direction. 



44 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

The paper is sold for threepence, — six cents, — 
and one number frequently is read by several cus- 
tomers, who pay a certain amount to an agent for 
the use of it for a prescribed time. But Mr. Mac- 
donald's kindness did not stop here ; for he intro- 
duced us to Mr. Walter, the principal shareholder 
in the largest — if not the greatest — newspaper in 
the world, who kindly gave us an order admitting 
to the House of Commons on the following day. 

The apartments assigned to visitors here are 
quite limited, and no one is admitted without first 
obtaining a permit from a member, or diplomatic 
minister. The gentlemen visitors occupy seats in 
the gallery at the extreme end of the hall, facing 
the Speaker's seat. There is seating-room here, 
however, for not more than sixty persons, on 
members' passes, but a like number of benches 
are in front of you, separated by iron railing, for 
the accommodation of persons admitted on card 
from the Speaker. Three rows of seats form 
the gallery opposite, almost immediately over 
the Speaker's chair, and these are used exclu- 
sively by the reporters, the Times having two. 
The seats on either side are for members, and 
are usually without occupants. Ladies are not 



LONDON 7 . 4 c 

admitted to seats at all within the House, but 
are placed in stalls or boxes immediately outside, 
with a screen, or open-work partition, before them,', 
through which they are permitted to hear and see 
what little they can. Their " gallery" in the Com- 
mons is immediately back of the reporters, but 
by special favor about six can be accommodated 
with seats in what is called the Sergeant-at-Arms 
Ladies' Gallery, in the rear of the seats for gentle- 
men. Feeling like a prisoner, I went behind the 
bars, and, although but about three feet from my 
companions, recognition from within was impossi- 
ble. Indeed, obtaining admittance to Parliament, 
especially for a lady, or, more properly speaking, 
with one, is quite a formal proceeding. Mr. Mac- 
donald remarked, " Had there not been a lady in 
the case, I could have managed the matter at once; 
but the British Parliament is not gallant." And 
his comment is literally correct. 

To an American the way of conducting business 
and the habits of members of Parliament are both 
interesting and in a degree ridiculous. Upon en- 
tering the House they remove their hats and after 
saluting the Speaker replace them. Upon long, 
upholstered, bench-like seats, on either side of the 

5 



46 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

room, the Government and the Opposition facing 
each other, they arise and quickly taking hat off, 
frequently half a dozen or a dozen at once, at- 
tempt to get recognition by the presiding officer. 
The unsuccessful ones are immediately reseated, 
and with hats readjusted give the same attention 
to the honorable member speaking as usually ob- 
served in our own National representative body, 
with this exception, that at frequent intervals the 
members are crying "hear, hear," to whatever of 
particular interest the speaker may say. This is 
frequently done in so loud a tone that persons in 
the gallery are unable to hear the member hav- 
ing the floor. This manner of applauding would 
certainly be very annoying to a speaker unused 
to it, but the dozen or more short speeches we 
listened to were not of that oratorical character 
or excellence to be marred by such interruptions. 
The question or clause in the bill under discus- 
sion was in reference to the pay of sailors' wages, 
and most of the speakers were, or at one time had 
been, ship-owners or merchants. Considerable 
personal altercation frequently occurs, and in this 
instance one member charged another with being 
ignorant upon some point, when the latter re- 



LONDON. 



47 



torted, " I see by this book that the gentleman 
was born in the year 183 1. In 1832 I was in 
business in Calcutta." This "brought down" 
the House with laughter, and was no doubt a 
"settler" for the young and ardent honorable 
member. There are three clerks, who are kept 
busy and whom we recognized by the white wig. 
The Speaker puts the question, and the clause in 
the bill, if unimportant, is adopted quickly and 
with simply " Those in favor say Aye — contrary, 
No. I think the Ayes have it." When a division 
is called, two tellers are appointed, and the mem- 
bers leave the hall, when walking through a narrow 
passage in an adjoining room their votes or num- 
bers are taken. Returning to the House the result 
is announced. The Commons usually meets at four 
p.m., but sometimes has a "morning session," com- 
mencing at two p.m. and adjourning at seven p.m., 
but when this occurs it again convenes at nine. 
The night preceding our visit this body was in 
session until after three o'clock in the morning. 
On Wednesdays the Commons is in session from 
twelve to six p.m., the House of Lords not at all ; 
while neither body sits on Saturdays. 

My next chapter I intend to devote to West- 



4 8 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



minster Abbey, or the Ascot Races, two widely 
diverse subjects, but equally objects of interest 
here. Not that I can convey to you a tithe of the 
grandeur and solemnity of the venerable Abbey, 
so rich and full of associations and memories, or 
make you realize the solemnity of the service, but 
I can tell you how we were awed and hushed by 
the marble companionship of Shakspeare, rare 
Ben Jonson, Sheridan, Handel, and Gray, — that 
the place seemed peopled with memories which 
subdued and saddened us, for we remembered that 
even genius was but mortal. 

Amid so much generalizing I am almost for- 
getting the curious, and have only time to glance 
at the British Museum, with its hosts of attrac- 
tions for scientists and people of every degree of 
intelligence. I really think there are exhibited 
there specimens of every known thing on the 
earth, and preserved the remnants of all things 
gone. In my verdancy I expected to see relics 
from the garden of Eden, and searched for a plas- 
ter cast of Adam's face. 

But how better close this hastily written letter 
than by a sketch of a day as near perfect in en- 
joyment and surroundings as ever falls to the lot 



LONDON. 40 

of mortals, for the time was June, the place Twick- 
enham, at the beautiful residence of Mr. Beale, of 
the firm of James Carter, Dunnett & Beale, seed- 
men, London. 

With minds filled with Pope's villa, Strawberry- 
Hill, and the dilettante Horace Walpole and Lady 
Mary Wortley Montague, we started on our jour- 
ney and were received so cordially by our new- 
found friends that contentment was mingled with 
our most pleasurable anticipations. How shall I 
describe the house, picturesque and beautiful, filled 
with choice furniture, old china and bric-a-brac, or 
the lawn, smooth and turfy as only an English 
lawn can be, where we lunched and dined, — the 
garden blooming with roses, so fine that I fear 
you will think I romance when I tell you they 
measured fifteen inches in circumference, — the 
charming summer-house overlooking the Thames, 
which was alive with wherries, sculls, and steam- 
boats, and upon which we went boating in the 
soft, delicious twilight. And after all this was 
seen and enjoyed, we drove past the little church 
where Peg Woffington lies in silence, but not for- 
gotten so long as the almshouses she founded 
testify to her worth, until we reached Hampton 

5* 



5o 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



Court Palace, the home which Wolsey in the 
height of his power and prosperity built for his 
use. But royalty brooked no rival, and that which 
was intended for the monument of his fame caused 
his fall. Over the archway are Wolsey's arms and 
motto, "Dominvs Mild Adivtor" while around are 
the busts of the Roman Emperors. Amid all this 
splendor, however, we can remember naught but 
his despairing cry, " Had I served God as faith- 
fully as I did my King, he would not have de- 
serted me now." We saw yards, I had almost 
said acres, of the finest needlework hangings, 
crumbling with age, hundreds of pictures, some 
of them almost beyond valuation, — saw the royal 
couches, satin-covered and embroidered, — then 
strolled through the gardens, as complete in their 
fashionings as when laid out to please the taste of 
royal William and Mary. The trunks of the ma- 
jestic trees tell the story of their great age, and in 
the grapery the gardener shows with pride the 
Black Hamburg vine, one hundred and ten feet 
long, the two thousand pounds of fruit of which 
are for royal palates. Said our host, and his opin- 
ion was one of undoubted authority, " I have great 
respect for the taste and judgment of the man who 



LONDON. ci 

planted these trees more than two hundred years 
ago, for he did it with an eye single to their future 
greatness ; and time has realized his expectations, 
for what was then unsightly has year by year 
become a thing of beauty which will be a joy for- 
ever." The evening came all too soon, and we 
turned our steps Londonward ; and just let me 
whisper it across the Atlantic, we took seats on 
the top of the omnibus, that we might see the 
great city with its myriads of gas-lights, rich 
shops, gay throngs of people, and brilliant places 
of amusement. How we bowled along seemingly 
over the heads of the people, in and out the 
crooked streets, killing none and wounding but 
few, until I exclaimed, "It takes almost as much 
talent to drive a London omnibus as to marshal 
an army." 



IV. 



A DAY AT ASCOT. 



The Annual " Meeting" — The Royal Family — The Races and 
their Admirers, etc. 

Good old England completely unbends from 
her dignity on Ascot week, and thoroughly goes 
for a " lark" on Cup-Day. It is a sort of national 
holiday, when every one's thoughts run in the 
same direction ; people don their best clothes, and 
every one goes not only to show himself but to 
see his neighbor. The railways leading to Ascot, 
— which place cannot be dignified by the name 
of a village, since the annual races give it all the 
importance it ever possesses, — in anticipation of 
a rich harvest, double their rate of fare, and the 
price of every article in the vicinity increases in a 
direct ratio. A drink of water costs two cents, 
but there is little demand for that article. It is 
the only place we have met the traditional John 
Bull. He was there in all his glory, in attendance 
52 



A DAY AT ASCOT. * « 

on the partner of his joys, and woe to any one who 
encroached upon him on platform or grounds, for 
he was quick to resent and mighty in wrath. At 
this monstrous gathering were all the monde, and 
I suspect some of the demi-monde. Rather than 
look odd, I meditated an English toilette, but 
could not accomplish it without a commingling of 
my entire wardrobe, so I was content to represent 
" Our American Cousin," and was completely en- 
grossed and bewildered by what seemed the bizarre 
appearance and total unsuitableness of many of 
the costumes. Remember, the grounds are in no 
way better adapted to this unique display of dress 
than our own agricultural fairs. There is grass, 
but it is dusty; seats, but they are rude and un- 
cushioned, the choicest ones without a covering; 
yet in the face of these facts the entire space 
within the enclosure was used as a promenade- 
ground by ladies in white silk en train, tarlatans 
elaborately trimmed and ruffled, the most delicate 
pink, blue, and buff silks, huge breastknots of 
flowers, opera bonnets, I have almost said, not 
matching their costumes, upon their heads, feet 
encased in satin or kid slippers, and protecting 
themselves from the sun by means of a Honiton 



54 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



or point-lace parasol. The most costly thread and 
Mechlin lace trailed upon the floor, and garnet, 
purple, and black velvet swept the dirt from the 
ground. It was an elegant out-door fete, save 
when above the murmur of voices rose the noise 
of the gamblers and betting men, who made a 
second Babel with their cries. 

The grand stand is a most substantial affair. It 
is in reality the side of a hotel built to slope on 
one half from the roof down, which side is fitted 
with seats to which you gain admittance by means 
of a handsomely carpeted stairway. To this 
choice spot the modest admittance fee of one 
pound (five dollars) apiece is charged, and you 
may judge of Britons' zeal when I tell you that 
fifteen thousand tickets were sold at that gate 
alone. 

The police, of whom there were over three hun- 
dred on duty, managed the multitude with won- 
derful skill and ease. They formed into a solid 
phalanx and cleared the course with great dis- 
patch. The track, unlike those we have, is cov- 
ered with grass, so that there is but little danger 
of the horses falling. 

One of the finest features of the day was the 



A DAY AT A SCO T. 



55 



gathering of the carriages with their lordly occu- 
pants. You first heard the post horn "tally-ho," 
then saw the noble horses, richly caparisoned, 
generally four-in-hand, with the postilions gay in 
blue and scarlet, and the footmen in the drag, 
while inside and on top were perched these daintily 
dressed damsels. These carriages were formed 
into line along the course, the inmates occupying 
them the entire time. But this splendor of dress 
was not confined to the ladies. The gentlemen 
were in full ball costume. One provident party of 
three brought a change of hats in as many boxes. 
Think of that, ye damsels who are wont to be 
reviled for vanity, — a change of hat ! As though 
plaid trousers, coat tightly buttoned, buff kids, 
and an eye-glass, were not sufficiently irresistible ! 

It rained at intervals, but it was the clothes and 
not the enthusiasm which would have been damped 
had it poured all day. During shower-time lace 
and tarlatan were not by any means water-proof. 
Some of the dowagers had the most fantastically 
looped lace shawls, others were magnificent in 
black or gray satin and diamonds. 

At one-thirty it was evident the police intended 
to open the ball, from the excited manner in which 



56 ^ SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

they urged, gesticulated, and pushed the people; 
and lo the cry was " hats off," for we were in the 
presence of royalty. The barouche drove slowly 
along the course, and the Prince and Princess of 
Wales, Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, and 
other members of the royal family bowed a smil- 
ing response to the greetings of their subjects. 
They took their places on the private stand de- 
signed for their use alone, and the business of the 
day commenced. 

In my opinion the racing part of the programme 
was a comparative failure. About one-fifth of the 
horses advertised appeared, the owners having the 
right to nominate from the list a limited number. 
There was but one heat each race, the distance 
from one to about two miles. The jockeys were 
most fancifully dressed, and from their colors you 
recognized the horse and bet accordingly. For 
instance, Doncaster, who won the gold cup valued 
at five hundred sovereigns, was ridden by a jockey 
in yellow satin shirt, white pants, and black cap; 
and Gunner, who took the second prize, was 
known by the orange shirt, purple sleeves, and 
white cap of his rider. They whipped and lashed 
the poor beasts, all striving to win the goal. Peo- 



A DAY AT A SCO T. 



57 



pie seemed wild, entirely forgetting decorum, bets 
were freely made and large sums of money 
changed hands. 

During the intervals the lunch on the lawn 
formed a novel feature. The butler spread the 
cloth on the ground and produced from hampers 
a most enjoyable feast. Mutton-pie, lobster, boned 
chicken, cold ham, salad, jellies, fruit, and dishes 
new to us, were open to view, and on the ground 
sat the high-bred dames enjoying this feast in true 
picnic style. 

The presence of the royal family of course added 
to the scene and increased the enthusiasm. The 
Princess Alexandra is deservedly popular, and her 
gentle, winning manners the theme of praise. The 
queen's persistent withdrawal from society pro- 
duces murmurs loud and deep from tradesmen, 
and her love of Scotland and free mingling there 
with the people, while she denies herself to her 
English subjects, produces unpleasant comment in' 
higher circles. 

Be that as it may, even those who blame her for 
not participating in the showy pageants of the 
realm bear testimony that on the whole she must 
be regarded as the most popular as well as most 



53 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



sensible and best of all the women who have sat 
upon the throne of Great Britain. A late writer 
says, " Her speckless morality is the brightest 
jewel in her crown ; her undoubted love for Eng- 
land, her devotion to her husband living and dead, 
her love for her children, and her faithful devotion 
to her kindred and old friends, will remain to 
praise Queen Victoria even when the glories of 
her Indian empire, and the splendid pageants 
which she summons at Windsor when she enter- 
tains an emperor, or in London when she drives 
to her famous old church of St. Paul's — nay, even 
when the last grand pageant of all takes her to 
Westminster Abbey to lay .her beside her royal 
sisters Mary and Elizabeth : yes, when all these 
glories shall have faded from the pages of history 
and the minds of men, it will be remembered that 
she was a good woman, who passed through the 
terrible ordeal of her court, through the deprecia- 
ting influence of flattery and eye-service, and bore 
the temptations of enormous power without losing 
the respect of herself or her subjects." 

By five o'clock the last race is over, and then 
ensues the scramble for the cars and loading of 
carriages, for the great day at Ascot is ended. 



V. 

LONDON. 

The Metropolitan Tabernacle — Mr. Spurgeon — Gadshill. 

On Sunday morning we were attracted to the 
Metropolitan Tabernacle to hear Rev. C. H. Spur- 
geon. . This edifice, which looks like a Grecian 
temple, was opened in 1861. It was built by 
subscriptions obtained by Mr. Spurgeon. It has^' 
a six-column portico, and is one hundred and 
forty-five feet long, eighty-one broad, and sixty- 
two high. It is lighted by a lantern from above 
as well as from the side windows. Two deep gal- 
leries run around the interior, which is somewhat 
in the style of a concert-room. A semicircular 
platform, on a level with the first gallery, is used 
as a pulpit. About sixty-five hundred persons 
were present at the service, Messrs. Moody and/ 
Sankey among the number, they taking no part/ 
however, in the exercises. The congregation 

59 



g A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

appeared to be from the working classes, with a 
liberal sprinkling of strangers. 

Although Mr. Spurgeon is well known in 
America, a pen-picture of him may not be unin- 
teresting. He is a short, thick-set man, of sallow 
complexion, with keen black eyes, iron-gray hair, 
and a full beard. His teeth protrude, which ren- 
ders the expression of his mouth unpleasant. His 
delivery is quick, but clear and impressive. Earn- 
estness is the key-note of his sermons, and his 
style is rather that of a religious exhorter than a 
logical thinker who delivers a carefully-prepared 
sermon. He deals largely iiv figures of speech, 
often adapting his ideas to the rhapsodical lan- 
guage of Isaiah. His reading is very clear, but 
the congregation follow him, Testament and Bible 
in hand, for he keeps up such a running commen- 
tary that unless you do so you are almost unable 
to determine where the inspired writer ends, or 
where his own remarks begin. It is a style pecu- 
liarly his own, any imitation of which would fall 
far short of the original in impressiveness. 

The hymns are selected from a collection by 
the pastor, known as " Our Own Hymn-Book." 
The singing is without any instrumental accom- 



LONDON. 6 r 

paniment, being led by a man standing next to 
Mr. Spurgeon. The words are adapted to old- 
fashioned tunes, in which the whole congregation 
join heartily. 

Let me instance the style. It was the well- 
known song of Dr. Watts : 

"• Plunged in a gulf of deep despair, 
We wretched sinners lay, 
Without one cheering beam of hope 
Or spark of glimmering day." 

" Restrain yourselves, dear friends," interrupted 
Mr. Spurgeon. " You will want more fire near 
the end. Now, softly, sing — " 

" With pitying eye the Prince of peace 
Beheld our helpless grief; 
He saw, and, oh, amazing love, 
He came to our relief." 

" Now, friends, the full burst of your music, 
and sing the last three verses right straight 
through," — which was done with a will, to the 
accompaniment of the pastor beating time with 
his hands and calling out to sing faster. 

The text was from Isaiah xliv. 23 : " Sing, O ye 
6* 



5 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

heavens, for the Lord hath done it," and the ser- 
mon therefrom might be called the expression of 
a grateful heart for the exceeding goodness of the 
Lord, who, as Samson, has taken our sins, a bur- 
den heavier than the gates of Gaza, and borne 
them on his shoulders. " Get a grip of that, my 
brethren, and you will have the mastery. Unless 
I was a Milton whose tongue was touched with a 
live coal from off the altar, I could never suffi- 
ciently sing the glories of Redemption. If I were 
a slave, I should think that word a sweet morsel 
to roll under my tongue ; but thank God who has 
made me free to sing 'the Lord hath done it.' If 
ever you are saved it will be by a salvation which 
Christ has done for you upon the tree. For you 
may wash in the Atlantic until every wave is 
reddened, it will avail you nothing; but 'Sing, O 
ye heavens, for the Lord hath done it,' for you 
and me, — for you and me." 

There was an indescribable pathos in the last 
sentence, repeating his words in most persuasive 
tones, which excited many of his hearers to tears' 
and amens. 

I can understand the great love and reverence 
Mr. Spurgeon's congregation have for him ; he is 



LONDON. 



63 



not only pastor but friend to all. There are now 
forty-nine hundred members! There is no con- 
cern of mind which they may not bring to him, 
sure of his interest and advice. For these labors 
he receives about four hundred pounds, two 
thousand dollars of our money, absolutely re- 
fusing to take more. Yesterday being Hospital 
Sunday, he merely announced the fact, adding, in 
his pungent way, " I never plead for hospitals, for 
I take for granted that my congregation, if they 
are not all Christians, have all some humanity, and 
the object is so good it commends itself." 

Mr. Spurgeon is not a scholarly man. His ser- 
mon from which I have quoted did not express 
learning, or elegance of style, but he is wonderful 
in his enthusiasm, and most persuasive in telling, 
after his manner of thinking, the story of the cross. 
He electrifies his hearers, and in his manner forms 
a striking contrast to the monotonous reading of 
the English church service. His language is bold 
and concise, conveying his exact meaning. 

Every available place in the church was full, aisle, 
galleries, steps, and over and under the desk were 
persons who could not see the speaker, yet were 
listening intently to catch every word. Knowing 



64 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

we were strangers a man connected with the 
church approached us after service, kindly wel- 
comed us, and gave cordial invitation to come to 
the afternoon meeting, and even urged us to pass 
into the ante-room, that we might be greeted by 
the pastor, "who welcomes all." We declined, 
for naught but curiosity could prompt our visit, 
for a man with a parish of five thousand souls has 
no time to give to strangers. 

I cannot more appropriately close a religious 
sketch than by an account of a visit paid to Gads- 
hill. No pilgrims ever started for Paray-le-Monial 
with hearts more reverently attuned than ours 
when we went to the home of Charles Dickens. 
Now, I warn all readers who do not share my en- 
thusiasm on this subject not to condemn it. I am 
writing for that large class who loved the man and 
appreciated the genius which shows in every line 
of his works, — works destined to be known and 
admired wherever the English tongue is spoken, 
read, and studied by coming generations. I find 
now what suggested the characters which he so 
truthfully depicted. Any of the fraternity could 
recognize them. I have met Dombey, haughty and 
pompous, riding to the great city house which was 



LONDON. 



65 



his pride and boast. I knew Edith, unhappy and 
beautiful, when I saw her in the Park ; Carker was 
on horseback, bowing and showing all his white 
teeth ; and Mrs. Skewton's face, wrinkled but re- 
juvenated, nodded frightfully under a wreath of 
poppies; I recognize Copperfield's slight figure, 
when he waves adieu to Dora ; and Pip and 
Trabb's odious boy are perfect " conceits." On 
my way to the sea-side I passed Barkis and Peg- 
gotty, jogging in the cart, at least I was "willin"' 
it was them, and I found the street where Sairey 
Gamp lives, although it was not in the directory. 
At one of the grand homes I saw Susan Nipper's 
black eyes peering out, and each day the streets 
and by-ways which that pen taught me, and the 
trades and characters with which it familiarized 
the world, are so plainly before me that even in a 
city of four millions of souls I can know and 
enjoy them. 

You leave London by train for Rochester, the 
Cloisterham of Edwin Drood. Three miles dis- 
tant and up a long succession of hills stands the 
house; hence the name. The wall is so high that 
from the road little can be seen, but we held in 
our hands a letter, the signature of which was 



66 A SUMMER IX EUROPE. 

open sesame at the gate, and we were admitted to 
Gadshill. The house is brick, two stories high, 
with no attempt at style, but comfortable and 
home-like. Windows and doors were invitingly 
open, and we stepped into the hall, broad and 
pleasant. The walls are covered with engravings 
and water-colors. On a table stands an exquisite 
Swiss clock, the gift, we think, of an admirer. In 
a frame, hung that it might attract every eye, we 
read, 

" THIS HOUSE 

GADSHILL PLACE 

STANDS ON THE SUMMIT 

OF 

shakspeare's 

gadshill 

Ever memorable in its association 

In his noble fancy with 

Sir John Fa I staff. 

But my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning early at Gadshill. 

There are pilgrims going to Canterbury , with rich offerings, and 

tradespeople riding to London ioith fat purses. I have visors for 

all. You have horses for yourselves . ' ' 

The study was on our right, a small octagonal 
room, lighted by a single bay window. From 
floor to ceiling it was all books. Even the door 
was shelved and filled, the keyhole being made 



LONDON. 6 - 

through a Quarterly Review. We read the fa- 
miliar names of ancient and modern authors, be- 
side a handsomely bound edition of the works of 
Charles Dickens. The servant showed us the 
drawing-room, but it was the study we came to 
see, and there we lingered, looked, and turned, 
with tender hearts. 

That there might be one spot where he would 
be entirely free from intrusion, Mr. Dickens caused 
to be constructed under the road a tunnel through 
which he could pass to a beautiful grove and 
flower-garden on the other side, and here was 
erected the curious Swiss chalet, so well known 
to his admirers. Here in this secluded spot, the 
world forgetting, he wrote, mused, and doubtless 
passed both sad and happy hours. 

We wandered round the garden, saw his familiar 
haunts, looked upon the scenes he so cherished, 
— they were all familiar to us, — and our love 
grew afresh and stronger for the heart which had 
prompted, the mind which had fashioned, and the 
pen which produced so many characters to teach, 
please, and delight us. We knew he was forever 
stilled, that the nation which so cherished him 
would have given him its highest honors had he 



68 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

not forbidden it. In the old Abbey, surrounded 
by the monuments of Chaucer, Shakspeare, and 
Dryden, he sleeps his last sleep. Garrick and 
Richard Cumberland look down upon him, and, 
strewn with flowers from unknown hands, " this 
spot," in the language of Dean Stanley, " will 
thenceforward be a sacred one with both the New 
World and the Old, as that of the representative 
of the literature, not of this island only, but of all 
who speak our English tongue." 

" For mother Earth she gathers all 
Into her bosom, great and small ; 
Ah ! could we look into her face, 
We should not shrink from her embrace." 

'Tis but a plain blue slab which covers him, 
there is no word to tell of his life and greatness ; 
his works are his best and most enduring monu- 
ment, and with eyes blinded with tears we read 
the simple inscription, — 

" Charles Dickens, 
Born Feb. 7, 1812. 
Died June 9, 1870." 



VI. 



LONDON EXPERIENCE. 

The English at Home — Covent Garden Market — The Royal 
Mews — Bank of England — Underground Railroad — The Art 
Galleries — Brighton — Isle of Wight — London Places of Amuse- 
ment. 

The average Englishman is abundantly content 
with himself and his country. When he feels par- 
ticularly hilarious he crosses the Channel, sees 
Paris, and returns devoutly thankful that he is an 
Englishman. They are not jealous of us, simply 
because they do not think we have either things or 
places worthy to compete with their time-honored^ 
institutions. Excepting in the way of profit, they 
are supremely indifferent to us. They call us a 
race of shopkeepers, but admit that the best and 
most expensive of their productions are reserved 
for our use. A prominent merchant told me that 
he had two good customers, Uncle Sam and the 
Prince of Wales ; the former paid his . bills 

7 69 



7o 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



% promptly, but the latter did not. Said a very- 
jovial man, whom' we fell in with in a railroad- 
carriage, — and it is impossible in these odd little 

p compartment-cars not to make a companion of 
every traveler, — "The exultation of you Ameri- 
cans over your Declaration of Independence, and 
the subsequent results, always reminds me of the 
boasting of a child who had whipped his parent 

* and was glad of it." 

I find among American authors there is no 
name so highly honored as Washington Irving, 
because they say he had such a true appreciation 
of English life and character, and such genial 
humor in portraying it, that he has won an en- 
during place in their hearts. I met recently a 
very cultivated man, an amateur artist, who had 
made a number of etchings suggested by scenes in 
Irving's works. He forwarded a copy to Sunny- 
side, and had the pleasure of receiving an auto- 
graph letter acknowledging it and expressing 
pleasure thereat, which, when the date was exam- 
ined, showed it to have been written but four days 
before "Geoffrey Crayon" passed away to the bet- 
ter land, proving that, although so near death, he 
was still alive to the amenities of life. They praise 



L ONDON EXPERIENCE. y { 

the poems of Longfellow, announcing that he 
would prefer to live in Cambridge, England, to 
his own beautiful vine-embowered home in its 
namesake in Massachusetts. 

We are frequently interrogated concerning the 

religious condition of our country, so we stretch 

conscience and laughingly tell them we are all 

converted and sending missionaries to them; 

which really you might think to be the fact, from 

the number of exhorters from the States who, it 

is no exaggeration to say, are now attracting the 

attention of the English people. Moody and 

Sankey rank first, and no hall in all London can 

be found large enough to hold the crowds who 

flock to hear them. A friend who went to 

Brighton was attracted to the pavilion, and there 

reading the Bible and expounding its truths was 

Hannah Whitall Smith. We have been attending 

evening service at Westminster Abbey, and must 

bear testimony, after the manner of Friends, to 

the good doctrine, finished style, and simplicity of 

the sermons to which we listened. Neither the 

Lord Archbishop of York nor the Lord Bishop of 

Manchester searched the Scriptures for old-time 

sinners on whom to base their remarks and vent 



j 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

their wrath; they scourged the drawing-room in- 
fidelity of the present day, and took for texts 
the sublime sayings of the Man of Sorrows. 
What most surprised and delighted us was the 
absence of many of the forms and ceremonies 
which so frequently mar and distract the atten- 
tion in our modern church service. Here in the 
very " holy of holies" there was but little bow- 
ing, no posturings, and neither processional nor 
recessional hymns and banners. The hymns are 
printed en slips and handed round, that all may 
sing. 

Free as we boast ourselves, England is consid- 
erably in advance of us as regards the employ- 
m ent of women in the various branches of busi- 
n ess. But there should be fair play for women 
in a country governed by one. In Ireland, every 
h otel clerk' we saw was of the feminine gender. 
In theatres and places of amusement here the 
u shers and attendants are women. They also act 
as sextons. This seems to shock no one here, and 
I notice that no woman has lost one jot or tittle 
of her femininity by striving to gain an honest 
living. It seems really necessary that she should 
fill these places, for the entire working population 



LONDON EXPERIENCE. y <, 

of mankind is employed in driving omnibuses, 
tramways, underground roads, or waiting for some 
amiable stranger, for whom they have done nothing, 
to recompense them with a shilling. 

This morning about six o'clock we visited the 
Covent Garden Market, known to generations as 
the great mart for the sale of fruit, vegetables, and 
flowers. Most of the business is wholesale/ which 
causes to congregate a whole army of women and 
children in search of produce, which they distrib- 
ute over the whole city. Everything is brought to 
the market in baskets, and with an eye to beauty 
and freshness is packed in a kind of fine grass, 
which in course of time becomes strewn around 
and adds neither to the attractiveness nor cleanli- 
ness of the place. I can report the asparagus as 
large but hard and white, peas a small variety, 
rhubarb mammoth in size but coarse, and goose- 
berries the size of plums. The cauliflower is su- 
perior to any I ever saw, and the lettuce different 
from our own. The leaf is elongated and slightly 
curled, and even the stalk is entirely free from 
bitter taste. Potatoes of the Early Rose variety 
are sold at eighteen shillings per hundred pounds. 
Fruits are abundant but high in price. Strawber- 

7* 



74 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



ries at present bring from two to five shillings per 
pound. A variety labeled "President" seemed a 
favorite and the finest. They as well as cherries 
are most deceptively arranged in baskets, the 
best on top, the foundation blotting-paper, — to 
carry them without bruising, the dealer explains. 
Peaches ripened under glass bring a dollar a 
dozen. Apricots look delicious, but are hard, 
sour, and tasteless. 

But the dealers in flowers are certainly artists 
in their line, for they arrange their floral treasures 
so attractively that they not only please but de- 
mand attention. They mass the colors after the 
style of ribbon-beds, which is well calculated to 
display their beauty and vigor. Their roses are 
all choice varieties grafted upon hardy stems. 
This of course makes the top a mass of flowers. 
These form a background, and against them hang 
great bell-shaped fuchsias. Next a row of spirea, 
a fine, fringy flower, new to me. The leaf resem- 
bles a fern. Now come pelargoniums in their 
gaudy and infinite variety; next blue myosotis ; 
then a row of great scarlet geraniums and mig- 
nonette, the whole edged by a border of delicate 
lycopodium. I do not know that I have con- 



LONDON EXPERIENCE. 



75 



veyed the idea clearly, but indeed the effect is 
charming. 

The Royal Mews (we would call them stables 
in America) is thought to be one of the great 
attractions for London visitors. A card of admis- 
sion was obtained at Minister Schenck's office, 
and our company proceeded to inspect the stud 
at Buckingham Palace. Presenting ourselves at 
the main entrance, we were directed to write our 
names in the register kept for that purpose, which 
done we were given into the care of one of the 
several liveried persons whose business it is to 
show strangers through the building. At the 
time there were about one hundred horses in the 
stables, including thirteen for riding, splendid- 
looking animals, and the balance the numerous\ 
pairs of blacks, bays, and other colored animals 
driven on various occasions. The eight cream- 
colored stallions, used by the Queen when open- 
ing Parliament, presented in their stalls anything 
but a gay appearance. It had been fourteen years 
since Her Majesty performed this duty, or since 
the commencement of her widowhood. The mass- 
ive fire-gilt harness, like trie animals, was also dull 
and heavy. Hanging around was harness of all 



;6 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



descriptions, in the assortment a set heavily gilt- 
mounted, said by the guide to have been in the 
service of King George the Third. The various 
attendants also have their accoutrements, making 
the quantity as well as quality an object of surprise 
to the stranger. You are taken from the stables 
to the apartments containing the eleven or more 
state carriages, and the chariot built in 1 76 1, 
twenty-four feet long and with wheels six feet in 
diameter (the latter used only on great occasions, 
such as a coronation or opening of Parliament), to- 
gether with the numerous smaller family vehicles. 
Attached to the Mews is an enclosure in which 
the animals are exercised when necessary, and 
where also the younger fry of the family are 
taught to ride. At one end is a large chair where 
the Queen sometimes sits to view the perform- 
ance. Neither the stables nor the apartments for 
harness and vehicles were in as. good order as we 
have seen them elsewhere. Not being a judge of 
horseflesh, we supposed the one hundred head of 
stock were of the best. The vehicles numbered 
fifty-two, and some sixty men were employed 
at or connected with the Mews. Altogether the 
establishment is well worth seeing. You are po- 



- LONDON EXPERIENCE. 77 

li'tely shown through it, and as your card contains 
notice not to offer a fee to the attendant, you leave 
without the inspection having cost you anything 
but the half-hour spent at it. 

The Bank of England is another of the institu- 
tions of London usually visited; but there is little 
of interest here. However, we had been given an 
order, on request, by our bankers to see it, and 
thus armed we presented ourselves at the entrance. 
Being handed over to an officer, after registering 
our names we were walked hastily through the 
several rooms. First is the apartment where the 
sovereigns and half-sovereigns are weighed, some 
half-dozen persons being engaged at this business. 
From here we were taken to the room where are 
canceled the notes paid in at the bank. A large 
force is continually employed in doing this, as a 
note once returned is never paid out the second 
time, but instead has a corner torn from it and 
after remaining on file seven years is destroyed. 
Fifty thousand dollars are sometimes thus can- 
celed in one day. Another room is devoted to 
printing the notes and also the blank forms, books, 
and stationery used. The note itself is about 
twice the size of our greenback, and of extremely 



78 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



fine white paper, with very little and very plain 
printing upon it. But there is only the one mill 
in the country where the paper is made, and it is 
difficult to imitate and quite impossible to counter- 
feit the note without discovery. There is a special 
room for transacting government business, an- 
other for doing general banking, depositing, etc. 
There are also a stock side and a cash side of the 
house, the former where interest is paid, which is 
open from nine a.m. to three p.m., the cash side 
being closed to the public an hour later. There 
are fifty guards about the establishment, and hun- 
dreds of other employes. The principal officers 
are Governor, Deputy Governor, Secretary and 
Deputy Secretary, B. B. Greene, Esq., being the 
present Governor, an office the term of which ex- 
pires every two years and is filled in turn by the 
deputy. 

The underground railroad is one of the greatest 
accommodations in London. Persons living at a 
distance from their business take the car (or coach), 
and, as the speed is about thirty miles an hour, 
can reach it in ample time for the day's operations. 
In no other way can this be so readily done. The 
" tram" is found only here and there, as England 



LONDON EXPERIENCE. yg 

is slow to adopt any public improvement. The 
streets are filled with omnibuses, which, in the ab- 
sence of cars, are of course a great convenience, 
especially to strangers, who have an excellent 
opportunity to become acquainted with the city 
from a top seat, the 'bus being constructed to hold 
fourteen outside and but twelve inside. The 
" Hansom" is also a very popular mode of con- 
veyance, and thousands of them are to be seen. 
It is a one-seated vehicle on two wheels, with 
driver behind, who is obliged to convey either one 
or two passengers, when requested, in any direc- 
tion, at the rate of one shilling a mile or two 
shillings an hour. 

While Englishmen may be slow in many par- 
ticulars, in London they have not been behind in 
establishing societies and associations of a charit- 
able character, which have proved a great blessing 
to the people. Their hospitals, maintained prin- 
cipally by voluntary subscriptions, are numerous 
and most complete. Many of the poor find em- 
ployment as members of a society for cleaning 
front steps ; the bootblack is licensed and stationed 
constantly at particular localities ; an insurance 
company, one of the most successful, is entirely 



g A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

officered by women. We might enumerate many 
similar commendable institutions. 

We spent a day at Alexandra Palace. We have 
no mission, but are giving considerable time and 
study to this class of buildings, that we may be 
able to compare our Centennial Halls with them. 
Within seven miles of London there could be few 
spots selected more celebrated for rustic beauty 
than Muswell Hill. Here have they erected what 
is justly called a palace. Every spot is alive with 
historic interest. They still show you a group of 
trees bearing the name of Johnson's Walk. The 
view to the north is unequaled. You see South- 
gate, of which Leigh Hunt wrote so charmingly 
"that it was a pleasure to be born in so sweet a 
village." To the left is Enfield, where Keats grew 
to be a poet and the gentle author of Elia died. 
Farther on they point you to Colney Hatch Asy- 
lum, and I wondered if that was where poor Mary 
Lamb spent so many sad days, and if those were 
the hills over which, strait-jacket in hand, she 
passed to voluntary bondage. Far off is all that 
remains of Epping Forest, and the memories of 
Coleridge, Lord Bacon, Wilkes, and Hogarth 
people the place with the dead of many years, 



LONDON EXPERIENCE. gj 

and we turn away full of sad thoughts, yet feeling 
that the scene has been one of unusual enjoyment 
and satisfaction. 

The last few days of our stay in England we 
have devoted to excursions in the vicinity of Lon- 
don. Not that we have exhausted the sights of 
the city, for one might study for years and each 
day unfold a new page of wonders. The galleries 
containing treasures from the brushes of Rubens, 
Angelo, Holbein, Landseer, Turner, and Dore, — 
think you they can be glanced over? Hyde 
Park, with its wondrous assembly of royalty, 
nobility, and commoners, magnificent carriages 
and thorough-bred horses; Rotten Row, with its 
troops of equestrians, male and female ; the end- 
less pageant of shops, with goods temptingly dis- 
played, and "so cheap;" the multiplicity of statues 
and monuments; the endless variety of parks 
and gardens, — can all these be seen in a few 
days ? 

On Sunday we drove to Kew Gardens, and saw 
the gigantic Victoria Regia lily, and a perfect 
series of palms, orchidae, in fact the flora of every 
land and clime, all thriving as in their native soil. 
The fuchsias are trained like grape-vines, and 

8 



g 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

equal them as climbers. But I will not attempt to 
describe : only say a garden covering seventy-five 
acres is worth a visit. 

You remember in "The Newcomes," Thackeray 
says, "It is the fashion to run down George IV., 
but what myriads of Londoners ought to thank 
him for inventing Brighton ! One of the best 
physicians our city has ever known is kind, cheer- 
ful, merry Doctor Brighton." It is indeed a place 
to forget the cares and turmoil of city life, a spot 
where you may wander for miles along the beach, 
looking out into the ocean, or walk on the far- 
reaching piers into the sea and watch the ships, 
yachts, and steamers which lie idly there. Just 
now England is as near wild as that deliberate 
place allows on the subject of aquariums, and the 
finest in the world is at Brighton. When I re- 
membered the cost, time, tanks, hard work by day 
and night, anxiety and debate, number of men and 
boys, which were necessary (?) to introduce one 
variety of fish into the Schuylkill, then I appre- 
ciated the magnitude of undertaking to collect 
and domesticate so many members of the finny 
kingdom as they have here. The fish are quite 
tame, and approach the glass, dive, swim, or rest 



LONDON EXPERIENCE. 



83 



with the same ease as though in subterranean 
kingdoms. 

But for a place of quiet, lazy comfort I know 
no better spot than the Isle of Wight, where, if so 
disposed, a week might be spent in tramping from 
village to village at one's leisure, and living at the 
country inns. The grass and shrubbery are green 
and fresh, the towns clean and picturesque, and the 
effect at Alum Bay, where the wonderfully colored 
cliffs contrast with the glittering mass of snowy 
needles, is very curious. At Ryde the pier and es- 
planade are wonderful in their way, and the harbor 
at Portsmouth is large enough to float the largest 
vessel in the world. Let me give you a specimen 
of cheap travel. You desire to cross from Ports- 
mouth to Ryde, a distance about twice as great as 
from New York to Brooklyn. You pay two cents 
to cross the pier, eighteen cents across, and four 
cents to land. Total, twenty-four cents. We would 
do all for two cents. 

London is literally full of places of amusement, 
in nearly all of which you are sure to be well 
entertained. Yet, notwithstanding the enormous 
prices, the demand for seats far exceeds the sup- 
ply. At the opera the nobility own all the eligible 



8 4 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



boxes, so commoners must take what they can 
get. The theatres are small but beautifully fitted 
up, and every one, from the hero to "boots" and 
the chambermaid, a first-class artist. You may 
judge of the size of the stage when I say that in 
the play of "Nicholas Nickleby" they have in full 
view a hotel, mail-coach, four horses, post-boys, 
dogs, maids, and porters. But think of the prices: 
parquet two dollars and fifty cents per seat, first 
gallery one dollar and twenty-five cents, which, 
with twelve cents for keeping your bonnet (which 
they force you to leave) and twelve more for the 
programme, makes rather an expensive entertain- 
ment. The stage appointments are much finer 
than we have, — rich curtains, pictures, bronzes, 
statuary, India cabinets, and elegant Turkish 
rugs. 

Cab-hire, compared to our own, is cheap, — 
twenty-five cents a mile, or fifty cents per hour; 
and the streets are literally full of these vehicles. 
Would you go out? Make all preparations ex- 
cepting to the manner, open the door, and in two 
minutes "Cabby" has espied you, and, no matter 
how intricate the way, will drive you to your 
destination. 



LONDON EXPERIENCE. 3. 

The newspapers employ odd terms. They ad- 
vertise "Juvenile Outfitters," " Fruiterers," " Haber- 
dashers," " Poulterers," " Second-class Funerals," 
"Genuine Furniture," "Cash advances made to 
Gentlemen," "Sleeping Partners," "Dirty Law- 
yers," and a host of like terms. 



8* 



VII. 



A WEEK IN HOLLAND. 



Rotterdam — Dutch Babies — Amsterdam — Character of the Coun- 
try of Holland — Broek — Zaandam — The " Bible House" at 
Amsterdam. 

The three weeks we spent in London were full 
of enjoyment and instruction, but " the best of 
friends must part," and on June 25 we turned 
our faces towards Holland, the land of dikes, 
ditches, and flowers. We could not have selected 
a more appropriate time to see a Dutch institution 
in all its glory, for Saturday, soap, sand, scrubbing, 
and scouring are indissolubly connected. 

Rotterdam, our first halting-place, is a queer, 
old, irregularly-built city. The houses are built 
on spiles, which in time settle, causing the fronts 
to lean forward as though about to topple over. 
The canals run all through the city. Bridges are 
used for crossings. There are but few pavements 
for foot-passers, the middle of the street being 
86 



A WEEK IN HOLLAND. 



87 



shared by horses and human beings. Labor is 
performed principally by women and dogs, and it 
is surprising what great loads of vegetables these 
two noble animals can draw. An American dame 
carefully dusts the front of her dwelling with 
gloves on, circumspectly closes the window and 
retires to the inner recesses where no eye can 
penetrate to perform the mysteries of her house- 
hold. But mark the difference. Here every 
branch of labor is in full operation in the street. 
Stout women were shaking carpets, rugs were 
being cleaned, washing done, knitting, fruit-pick- 
ing, peddling, washing and dressing children, 
women laughing and jesting, with heads heavily 
laden, while the thoroughfare was crowded with 
cabs and drays. Women and men wear clumsy 
wooden shoes, or else cloth slippers. The former 
were armed with long poles to which were at- 
tached tin buckets, and the water dipped from the 
canal for the grand window- and pavement-wash- 
ing which was in full play. It really seemed as 
though a second deluge was in progress, such 
splashing and dashing of water as you saw on 
every side ; and the vigor with which they used 
brush-handle and mop was refreshing, but incon- 



gg A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

venient — down on their knees scrubbing the flag- 
stones, or else using a sort of pop-gun in lieu of a 
hose: it was indeed "water, water everywhere, but 
not a drop to drink." Every one, from old women 
to babies, wears a cap, frilled and goffered in a 
style worthy of imitation. 

The women of North Holland have on each 
side of the head what resembles a spiral bedspring, 
miniature of course, which causes a ferocious ap- 
pearance without adding to their beauty. 

The Dutch baby is the epitome of everything 
chubby, stolid, and sleek. Their name is legion, 
and surely never baby presented such a bizarre 
appearance. Faces so round and fat that you can 
scarcely see they have eyes, little bald heads cov- 
ered with white cotton caps, ears ornamented with 
rings, dress of calico, gay and stiffly starched, 
shoes red or yellow, and mantle the hues of the 
rainbow, — imagine all this, and you have the baby 
of the period. 

We visited the market-place, and saw the great 
baskets of delicious strawberries, the finest cher- 
ries in the world, great, firm heads of broccoli, 
crisp lettuce, peas, beans, carrots, herbs in their 
variety and abundance. Everything which would 



A WEEK IN HOLLAND. 



So 



suggest thrift and productiveness was there dis- 
played. 

Rotterdam was the birthplace of Erasmus. We 
remembered the fact, gave a sigh to his memory, 
looked at the monument, read the inscription, and 
quickly turned to the living panorama so new and 
strange which was moving before our eyes. 

In Amsterdam, as in a great part of Holland, a 
large proportion of the population are Jews. Con- 
sequently Saturday is a day of rest, and Sunday a 
holiday. Business of all kinds is in full operation. 
Music is common in the street, yet there is but 
little disorder or confusion. The people are civil 
and orderly. An intoxicated man is rarely or 
never seen. Everything is new and strange. 

There are naturally inconveniences in traveling 
in foreign lands, but they are in a measure over- 
balanced by the fact that you have the advantage 
of a free and full expression of opinion, confident 
that your remarks, although overheard, are not 
understood by any but the one to whom they are 
addressed. Many of the people can speak a little 
English, which they never fail to use, and in every 
case we have less difficulty with their Dutch- 
English than they have with the pure tongue as 



Q A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

spoken by us. Around the hotels you find num- 
bers of interpreters. 

We attended service on Sunday in the Nieuwe 
Kerk ; but do not ask us for text or sermon. 
It might as well have been Greek to us. But we 
attuned our hearts reverently, and for once wor- 
shiped by faith alone. The singing was a sort of 
chant. They took up three collections in direct 
succession, to which almost all contributed, and 
we were locked in the pew. The evening was 
spent in a very different but agreeable manner. 
The park is situated on the outskirts of the town, 
and there we and a few thousand others repaired 
to a concert. My friends know me too well to 
suppose I am going to advocate beer-drinking, but 
I must say a more agreeable fete I never attended. 
The grounds are highly ornamental, myriads of 
gas-lights sparkle among the trees, fountains play 
in the distance, the music is of the finest character, 
and young men and maidens, fathers and their 
families, friends and acquaintances, meet and chat, 
smoke and take a glass of beer, tea, and coffee, in 
the most harmless and thoroughly social manner. 
Every one seemed happy. There was not a loud 
word or the least confusion in this large gather- 



A WEEK IN HOLLAND. q X 



ing. It was a social entertainment, with nothing 
to mar or disgust. We were surprised and de- 
lighted to see some familiar faces among this vast 
gathering, and greeted with warmth our friend 
Mason Hirsh, of Philadelphia, who with his family 
was sojourning in Holland. Twenty-seven years 
ago, when a mere lad, Mr. Hirsh left Germany and 
came to our country. Fortune smiled upon him, 
and he is now one of our most substantial mer- 
chants. He had returned with his wife and a por- 
tion of his family to see his aged father, relatives, 
and friends. At ten o'clock the music ceased, and 
the people dispersed, happier for the innocent en- 
joyment in which they had participated. 

The character of much of the country in Hol- 
land is but little understood by us. It was origin- 
ally Water, but is now so filled in and interspersed 
with ditches and canals, which are kept in naviga- 
ble order by means of thousands of windmills 
which line the banks, that a soil valuable and pro- 
ductive is obtained. It is probably the lowest 
country in the world, the greater part lying many 
feet below the sea-level. The safety of the king- 
dom therefore depends upon the dikes or embank- 
ments by which the encroachment of the sea is 



02 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

prevented. The first care of the constructor of 
dikes is to lay a secure and massive foundation, as 
a preliminary to which the ground is stamped or 
compressed in order to increase its solidity. The 
dikes themselves are composed of earth, sand, and 
mud, which when thoroughly consolidated are 
entirely impervious to water. The surface is then 
covered with twigs of willow interwoven with 
elaborate care, the interstices of which are filled 
with clay, so as to bind the whole into a solid 
mass. The willows, which are extensively culti- 
vated for the purpose, are renewed every three 
years. Many of the dikes are planted with trees, 
the roots of which contribute materially to the 
consolidation of the structure. Others are pro- 
vided with bulwarks of masonry or protected with 
stakes against the violence of the waves, while the 
surface is covered with turf. In order to prevent 
the sands of the downs from covering the soil, 
they annually sow with seed grass, the roots of 
which spread and become entwined and form a 
substantial soil. We saw the process of reclaim- 
ing, and would judge it required much time and 
great labor. Much of the land thus obtained is 
devoted to ^razina- and vast numbers of fine cattle 



A WEEK LK HOLLA XD. 



93 



are seen on every side. The hay is pitched and 
dried in the old-time style, but gathered and stored 
by means of boats. The haymakers, with their full 
red trousers, blue shirts, and broad straw hats, add 
considerably to the effectiveness of a scene which 
is to be found in no other country in the world. 

We devoted one day to an excursion to the 
northern part of Holland. We took a steamboat 
on the Amstel, and, passing into the canal, stopped 
at Broek, said to be the cleanest town known. I 
am personally acquainted with some people not a 
thousand miles from my home who scrub kindling- 
wood before using, and wash shoe-strings before 
wearing them, and I was anxious to see if there 
was any custom in this famous village to exceed 
the two which I have mentioned. These were the 
only extreme points I was able to discover : the 
matrons of Broek require those who enter the 
house to leave their shoes at the door, and they 
scrub the bristly hides of the pigs ! The former 
statement I can vouch for, as I saw dozens of 
shoes meekly waiting outside for the owners' ap- 
pearance, but the latter is hearsay. 

The houses are built of wood and most gor- 
geously painted. The variegated tiles of the roofs 

9 



g^ A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

glitter in the sunshine and impart a cheerful ap- 
pearance to the place. The gable end of the 
house is turned towards the street and contains the 
principal entrance, which is reached by a flight of 
three steps, which are movable and only used on 
occasions of festivals and funerals. 

From Broek we walked to Monnikendam, a 
distance of over two miles, and then drove to 
Zaandam, which is chiefly remarkable for having 
four hundred windmills in its immediate vicinity, 
and being the town where Czar Peter learned the 
humble trade of ship-building. We went to his 
house, which is a rude wooden structure in a tot- 
tering condition, but now encased in another house 
built by Anna, late Queen of Holland. We saw 
the rude bed on which he slept, sat in the straight- 
backed uncomfortable chairs, read the inscriptions 
left by numerous monarchs, then embarked for 
return to Amsterdam. 

The hotel at which we are stopping has a pecu- 
liar name and history. It is the house where, in 
1542, Jacob Van Liesveldt published the first Protr 
estant Bible, a copy of which is now in possession 
of the present proprietor, Mr. Hardenburg. In 
1620, D. D. Cottermolen, a Scotchman, purchased 



A WEEK IN HOLLAND. g$ 

the house and altered it into a hotel, calling it the 
" Bible House." But, fearful lest it might be mis- 
taken for a temperance hotel, he placed above the 
door a Bible open at Paul's First Epistle to Tim- 
othy, fifth chapter, 23d verse, with the text which 
still serves for anti-temperance sermons, printed 
in full : " Drink no longer water, but use a little 
wine for thy stomach's sake and for thine often 
infirmities." And to this day that unique sign 
remains to be read and commented upon by the 
stranger. A better and more home-like spot it 
has never been my good fortune to sojourn in, — 
clean in every part, the food wholesome and well 
cooked, and all connected with the establishment 
attentive and kind. Let me subjoin a bill of fare : 

Soup. 
Patties. 
Roast Beef, Potatoes, Peas. 
Stewed Chicken and Olives. 
Sausage, Gravy, and Potatoes. 
Veal, Stewed Cherries. 
Pudding with Fruit and Sauce. 

Salad, and Fish. 

Strawberries. 
Maccaroons and Sponge Cake. 
Cheese and English Walnuts. 
Lighted Candles and Cigars. 



9 6 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



Now, you will please remember that the articles 
(except the candles and cigars) are eaten in the 
order in which I have named them, on different 
plates each time, and with an entire change of 
knives, forks, and spoons, and you can judge of 
the length and solemnity of the process. 



VIII. 

BELGIUM GERMANY SWITZERLAND. 

Woman's " Rights" — Traveling in Europe contrasted with Trav- 
eling in America — A Glance at Antwerp, Brussels, Cologne, 
the Rhine, Frankfurt, Homburg, Wiesbaden — The Mountains 
of Switzerland — A Furious Hail-storm. 

The ride through Belgium and Germany is so 
varied and interesting that we felt no weariness, 
although the distances are long: for Continental 
traveling. There is literally no spot unfruitful, no 
foot of ground encumbered by a fence, all covered 
with grain now ready for the sickle. The very ex- 
cellent regulation they have of compelling every 
man who cuts down one tree to plant two prevents 
their country from presenting the bare appearance 
which is becoming so painfully apparent in many 
sections of our own. In every field we see num- 
bers of women raking and loading hay. In fact, as 
we have before observed, her condition is one of 
servitude. There seems to be no labor too menial 
9* 97 



9 8 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



for the weaker sex. I have seen her yoked to a 
cart, dragging the plow, digging with spade and 
hoe, carrying great cans of milk, waving the sig- 
nal-flag at railway-stations, handling trunks, and 
at other employments of a " light" character. In 
Italy men fill the hods which the girls carry to the 
tops of the buildings. In Holland I saw matrons 
making stationary wash-tubs of the canal and 
minding two or three babies on the bank at the 
same time. No talk of " woman's rights" here, 
that nature has unfitted her to compete with man 
in his labors, or that she is neglecting home duties 
by her continued absence. Her sphere is hard, 
unremitting tpil, and too often an absence of the 
courtesies which naturally form part of a true 
man's treatment of a woman. You meet them 
returning from work, the woman carrying a load 
on her back or head, and the man smoking with 
hands in his blouse-pockets. I heard of one stout 
dame who gently drew the cart in which her liege 
lord reposed. It must rouse the indignation of 
every American to see hosts of stalwart fellows 
drilling or on parade while their mothers and 
sisters are toiling like beasts. I have frequently 
heard it said that a woman could travel with 



BEL Gl I'M— GERMANY— S W1TZERLAND. gg 

much more ease and meet with more civility in 
Europe than in our own country. This is not 
true. In the first place, they have not the conve- 
niences we have. Next, a fee to the railway offi- 
cials is required to insure civility. I doubt not 
that if persons of unlimited means would consign 
themselves to the tender mercies of hotel-keepers 
and waiters the way would be comparatively easy, 
but I have seen parties of ladies who never met 
with the slightest attention, who have been jostled 
away from ticket-offices, crowded out of cars, and 
rudely treated by those in authority. " Do Amer- 
ican ladies travel alone?" superciliously inquired . 
a titled lady, who considered herself entitled to 
the whole compartment of a railway-carriage into 
which a friend of mine entered. " When they 
wish to," was the caustic rejoinder. " It depends 
upon the character of those they meet whether it 
is agreeable for them to do so." This lack of 
courtesy is particularly noticeable in Germany. 
Let me give you a specimen of the behavior of 
the men as I have seen it many times during the 
past two weeks. By main force our gentleman 
generally reaches the car first. If he does not 
appropriate two seats, he monopolizes most of the 



100 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

rack intended for baggage purposes. He then 
takes the seat next the door, and, notwithstanding 
a printed prohibition, smokes either pipe or cigar, 
which pleasant occupation he varies by spitting 
out of the window. At the station he thrusts his 
head out of the door and calls for beer. Should 
he meet a friend, they talk loudly and boister- 
ously, to the serious annoyance of every one else. 
Worst of all, when wearied he stretches himself 
out to sleep and snores. But language fails me. 
Imagination must complete the picture. At the 
table you see another phase of character, as with 
elbows outstretched he manages with the aid of 
his knife to destroy a great quantity of food in a 
very little time. Then ensues a most vigorous 
tooth-picking, followed by the call for cigars or 
pipe, and if you have been so unfortunate as to 
be late you have the pleasure of eating your meal 
in an atmosphere which can be likened to nothing 
but a smoke-house. I may be deemed severe, 
but really I have heard everything European so 
lauded that I feel like crying aloud when I find 
things so different from that represented. How 
many young men with us ignore our excellent 
colleges, dilate on the superior advantages of a 



BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S WITZERLAND. j 1 

foreign education, and point to Heidelberg as the 
place where it is most likely to be obtained! We 
have been there and met many of the students of 
that famous University. Two were pointed out 
whose faces were disfigured by immense scars, 
the result of duels, which I was told are among 
the highest honors of the institution. 

Let us shift the scene, and I will narrate a little 
incident which came under my own observation. 
Two years ago, when traveling West, I met at 
Quincy, Illinois, a girl apparently about sixteen 
years old. She was alone, unable to walk a step, 
but endeavoring to make her way from Ohio to 
Kansas, where there is a hospital for the treatment 
of spinal complaints. She sat in a small rocking- 
chair, and at every change of cars it required two 
men to lift her. Now, remember, this child was 
not prepossessing, but deformed, dirty, and almost 
without money. Yet, I tell you, I journeyed with 
her many hundred miles, and never once by day 
or night did I see her wanting in kindness and 
attention, and those who served her did it for 
the sake of humanity, and without the hope of 
reward. I was surprised when the conductor of 
the train at Antwerp opened the door and lifted 



I0 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

my shawl-strap out, but that feeling merged into 
indignation when his outstretched hand told me 
he demanded a fee for this unusual piece of polite- 
ness. 

We find but few persons here who speak Eng- 
lish, and a scant knowledge of German or French 
avails but little amid this Babel of tongues. Let 
none flatter themselves that a few boarding-school 
phrases will make them masters of the situation. 
I have seen it tried repeatedly, and it always re- 
sulted in unmistakable failure. "My daughter 
speaks French," explains mamma, with evident 
pride in the dear child's accomplishment; but 
with the train thundering along the guard puts 
his head in, and then ensues a laughable scene of 
explanation, misunderstanding, and no satisfac- 
tion. You may set this down as a rule: wherever 
there is anything for sale to eat, drink, or wear, 
you will find an English translation, but for a 
proper route or time table, where it should be, 
that " he who runs may read," it will be in an 
incomprehensible language, which you may get 
translated as best you can. 

At Antwerp there is but little to attract, except 
the Cathedral, with its fine paintings by Rubens, 



BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S IVITZERLAXD. lo ^ 

and wonderful spire, so symmetrical and exquisite 
in its workmanship that Charles V. justly said it 
deserved to be kept in a case, and Napoleon com- 
pared its minutely carved work to delicate Mech- 
lin lace. 

During the morning the Cathedral is free to 
visitors, but at noon the famous pictures are un- 
veiled, when a fee of a franc is demanded. Can 
any one who has once looked ever forget the 
startling reality of the face of the Master? It is 
the fa'ce of a God, yet burdened by human sor- 
rows and suffering. Half hidden behind a pillar 
is the famous head painted on marble by Da 
Vinci. It is the face of a man, handsome and 
sad, but scarcely divine. 

At Brussels we saw the most delicate and costly 
lace, so fine and filmy that we could scarce be- 
lieve it the production of the coarse hands em- 
ployed in its manufacture. 

At Cologne, known everywhere for its associa- 
tion with sweet scents, we found another Cathedral, 
which is destined to be the grandest Gothic struc- 
ture in the world. Begun in the thirteenth cen- 
tury, it still engages hundreds of workmen and 
has cost millions of money for the statuary and 



104 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



materials which it contains. I know I am laying 
myself open to censure by not sending home 
closely-written pages of raptures over these mon- 
uments of art, but, my friends, when I go through 
the country and see the people toiling like slaves, 
many of them scantily clad, with boards lashed to 
their feet instead of shoes, look into their homes 
destitute of every comfort, then see in the cities 
these costly, senseless pillars of granite, which 
must be paid for by taxes wrung from the scanty 
pittance of these poor souls, — then is my soul 
stirred within me, for I feel that a God of justice is 
better pleased by the simple prayer of his humble 
servants than by the empty offering of a magnifi- 
cent pile, every stone of which is cemented by the 
tears of his sorrowful creatures. 

We sailed up the Rhine on a glorious summer 
day. A shower the previous night had brightened 
and freshened each tree and shrub along these 
banks so often named in song and story. High 
above us towered the mountains. On their side 
and down by the river-bank were the clean, neat 
towns. Ehrenbreitstein looked proudly from its 
lofty summit, and a hundred legends of days gone 
by came fresh before us. The vineyards were a 



BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S WITZERLAND. 



105 



disappointment, not in their number, but appear- 
ance. You all know how they are described, — 
graceful and clinging in their luxuriance, forming 
an emerald covering for the hill-side. Dismiss 
that idea. The vines are short and straight, sup- 
ported by poles, to which they are tied by bands 
of straw, and present such an utterly unpoetical 
and lank appearance that for a long time I was 
undecided whether they were that very valuable 
but vulgar root known as the potato, or the whole- 
some vegetable commonly called pole-beans. 

The ruins of castles are so suspiciously numer- 
ous that we are inclined to credit a well-authenti- 
cated story to the effect that the enterprising and 
industrious German, finding that the present gen- 
eration have an increasing reverence for the relics 
of feudal times, spends the winter in erecting 
them, placing them in the most eligible and pic- 
turesque positions to attract the eye of the tourist, 
who gazes enraptured and bursts into applause. 
" Look, look, Marie," exclaimed one of these 
gushing creatures, " is it not grand and soul- 
satisfying? Let me quaff this delicious air. How 
can I take in all the beauties in these brief mo- 
ments? Let us look and never forget." I learned 



io 6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

upon inquiry that this romantic young woman 
had just recovered from an attack of brain-fever, 
and ventured the prediction that she would have 
another if she did not moderate her raptures. 

Frankfort-on-the-Main is one of the finest cities 
we have seen. It is the home of men of immense 
fortunes, who have done much to beautify and 
improve it. The Palm-Garden is one of the finest 
in Europe, and attracts many visitors. We drove 
through the old Jew quarters, now nearly a heap 
of ruins, saw the humble house which was the 
birthplace of the elder Rothschild, visited Lu- 
ther's home, still adorned with his portrait, and, 
stopped at the unpretending dwelling where 
Goethe lived and wrote. The little window with 
its iron casement is still there, before which he sat 
and gazed across the way at Margaret who was 
spinning. I dare say that sensible and prosaic 
female wished the fellow would cease staring at 
her, not dreaming that time would so mellow and 
soften the picture and his passion render her name 
immortal. In the Museum we saw Danneker's 
statue of Ariadne, and a more perfect piece of 
sculpture never came from the chisel. Every 
limb is rounded in perfect symmetry, the features 



BEL GIUM— GERMANY— SWITZERLAND. i Q y 

life-like and beautiful. In the face is shadowed 
forth the story of a woman scorned yet triumph- 
ant. We recall and believe the story of an artist, 
who, day by day, grew so enamored with the 
creation of his brain, fashioned by his chisel, that 
his soul went out in adoration to a thing of stone. 
This statue and a picture by K. du Jardin in the 
Museum at Amsterdam have impressed me more 
than any of the hundreds of painted faces and 
landscapes at which I have gazed. 

In company with friends we visited Homburg, 
once celebrated as a great gambling resort, now 
happily purified of that stain. The halls, up- 
holstered, frescoed, and gilded, lighted by a thou- 
sand jets of gas, are extremely gorgeous. We saw 
where fortunes had been won, then swept away in 
a single night; heard stories of desperate men and 
women, having staked their all and lost, who had 
cursed their madness and folly, then rushed out to 
dishonor and death. Happily for the people, the 
Prussian government, upon the annexation of the 
province, prohibited this terrible curse, and con- 
verted these buildings into reading and concert 
saloons. 

We spent the " glorious Fourth" at Wiesbaden, 



108 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

which, like Homburg, was once the resort of gam- 
blers, but is now less frequented, though a most 
charming place. Here was displayed the Ameri- 
can flag. The Sabbath is not a continental insti- 
tution, so we loitered amid shops, parks, music, 
and a multiplicity of people, thinking often of the 
noise, fun, and smoke in our home on the nation's 
holiday. The leader of the excellent orchestra 
at the Park had arranged a programme for an 
" Amerikanisches National -Fest- Concert," with 
fireworks in honor of the occasion. 

Our wandering steps were next turned towards 
Switzerland. And now let me give full vent to 
genuine enthusiasm, for a country more grand 
and romantic, and a people more simple in tastes 
and habits, the world never saw. Now I under- 
stand how this race, imbibing the free mountain 
air, threw off the yoke of the oppressor, and, 
fleeing to the Alpine fastnesses, there defied his 
power. 

From Zurich, calm and peaceful, we went to 
Lucerne, and there climbed the Rigi to spend the 
night six thousand feet above the level of the sea. 
Slowly we ascended the mountain-side, each mo- 
ment the car bringing us nearer the clouds. Men, 



BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S WITZERLAND. 



109 



beasts, and houses gradually became as specks, 
eleven lakes lay at our feet, and the panorama of 
a world seemed unfolding before us. Titlis, with 
his snowy head, untouched by the foot of man, 
was serene and awful ; Pilatus, many-peaked and 
hoary, towered above his fellows, and southward 
we could see the wonderful pass of St. Gotthard, 
which yearly attracts its crowd of pilgrims. There 
was something terribly grand and oppressive in 
the sight of these sentinels as they one by one 
were revealed to us, and I think I shall never 
look heavenward again without fancying they are 
frowning solemnly upon me. We picked the 
Alpenrose which needs no fostering care to cause 
it to bud and bloom amid the snows of its lofty 
home, and saw the delicate blossoms high above 
our reach with which God has beautified these 
waste places of creation. Gradually the sun sank 
in his bed of crimson and gold, but, true to the 
promise, the next morning, while the dwellers be- 
low were dreaming, the eastern horizon was insen- 
sibly changed to a band of light, then each lofty 
snow-clad peak was tinged with a roseate blush, 
the shadows melted away, and forests, lakes, hills, 
and towns revealed themselves, until the sun sud- 
10* 



H(5 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

denly burst from behind the mountains in all his 
majesty, never more truly the god of day than 
when he floods the whole of this superb landscape 
with light and warmth. No wonder that the dis- 
ciples of Zoroaster were ready with one accord to 
do reverence to the "great light which rules the 
day" and worship it as a power supreme. 

The morning brought us down to the realities 
of earth, and the day was given to a " post-chaise 
and four" through the famous Briinig Pass. The 
road, although in many places precipitous, is as 
hard as though made of concrete ; and the view 
it affords of Alpine scenery is one never to be for- 
gotten. High on the mountain-side are perched 
the houses of those who till these lofty tracts ; the 
cows are sure-footed as chamois, and the tinkle of 
their bells adds music to the scene. Do not im- 
agine that these Swiss cottages are modeled and 
carved like the well-known chalets with which 
gentlemen of fortune adorn their lawns. These are 
very different affairs. They are shared alike by 
man and beast, the cow frequently having the best 
accommodation. The roofs are covered with large 
stones, to keep them from blowing off. There is 
but one window, and neither plastering nor floor. 



BEL GIUM— GERMANY—SWITZERLAND. l j x 

Neither are those pretty Swiss maidens who add 
so much to the attractiveness of Centennial Ba- 
zaars to be found in this section. Here the gowns 
are of linsey, short and very stiff, the bodice of 
calico, and the sleeves of check, while an old silk 
red handkerchief or coarse straw hat serves to 
cover the head. 

The heat was oppressive when we started on 
our ride, and towards noon a slight haze hovered 
around Pilatus. Soon the clouds thickened and 
the distant roll of thunder was heard. The light- 
ning, fierce and jagged, lit up the mountain-peaks, 
and we witnessed a scene of unparalleled grandeur 
and fury. An awful blackness seemed to settle 
like a pall over the earth ; the mountains became 
giants in size and in strength, threatening to over- 
whelm us. Then came great drops of rain splash- 
ing down, followed by a torrent of hail. Many of 
the hailstones were the size of eggs, and came 
down with such fury that they were dashed to 
pieces. Others were round as balls, while some 
were sharp, triangular pieces of ice which stung 
and cut the flesh. The horses were so terrified 
that we were forced to take refuge at an inn dur- 
ing the half-hour the storm lasted. And then 



II2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

what a change had come over the scene ! The 
streams were swollen and rushing with redoubled 
fury; miniature cascades sprang from the moun- 
tain-sides, and with their yellow foam leaped 
madly and wildly above our heads ; great piles 
of hailstones had been swept together, and mon- 
strous trees bowed their heads ; but far on we 
could see, all sunshine and calm, the valleys which 
the tempest had not yet reached, and through the 
clouds which still rested against the mountain- 
side we drove with thankful hearts to our destined 
haven. 



IX. 



PARIS. 



Life in the City— The Palais Royal— Versailles— Art Attractions 
— The Champ de Mars — Dress and Shopping — Pere la Chaise 
— The Morgue — Louis Napoleon's Work, etc. 

Paris is unquestionably the city of the world, 
and first to attract, then amuse, is the motto of 
her people. To do this they gather together every 
device of beauty, grace, and gay, bewildering bril- 
liancy, and lo ! thousands flock thereunto. Every 
taste can here be gratified. Are you fond of his- 
tory? France has a past and a present to be care- 
fully studied and its lessons reflected upon. Do 
you love art? Her galleries contain the treasures 
of every clime and age. Have you a taste for 
merchandise ? Her looms and artisans produce 
fabrics of unrivaled fineness and coloring. Are 
you musical ? The grandest opera-house in the 
world opens its doors and bids you enter. Or 
are your tastes less expensive? The Champs 

"3 



II4 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

Elysees will furnish you with a cafe chantant or 
dansaiit, where, for a couple of francs, your ear 
will be charmed, your eye delighted, and the inner 
man refreshed. By nature the French are gay, 
mercurial, and vivacious. When they cease to 
bow and compliment they cease to breathe. They 
may sneer, but they veil it with a smile; they may 
deceive, but they do it with a courtly grace. In 
the very heart of the city, where land is so valu- 
able that the population of a block will number 
thousands, you come upon gardens and parks 
where rest and companionship are provided for, 
and upon the seats find the artisan in his blue 
blouse, the humble flower-maker whose stained 
fingers tell the story of her employment, and the 
industrious sempstress, chatting as merrily as 
though she had not a care in the world. The 
steady business man or woman of our country can 
form no idea of the life of the majority of the 
people here. They have no word to express what 
we call the dearest spot; home is a thing un- 
known ; chez vous and chez nous is their abiding- 
place. They lodge, breakfast, and dine most 
likely each time at a different spot, and after busi- 
ness hours sit outside the cafe-door and smoke, 



PARIS. j ! 5 

sip wine, read the papers, and chat with their 
friends. This is Parisian life. It is the perfect 
freedom of this wandering out-door existence 
which renders it so charming to foreigners. You 
may dress, eat, drink, and go where you like, 
without exciting comment. You have no neigh- 
bors, consequently on dit is a thing unknown. I 
heard a story of a man who sojourned here for 
some months in order to be treated for an affec- 
tion of the brain. The operation necessitated a 
discoloration of the forehead, and, although he 
was daily in the streets, his strange appearance 
excited not even an inquiring glance ; but once 
landed in New York he had not crossed the ferry 
ere some one kindly inquired what made his head 
" such a queer color." 

In the older portions of the city many of the 
streets are not more than eight feet wide, and the 
houses, seven stories high, literally swarm with 
human beings. A walk through the ou vrier quar- 
ter is a most interesting sight. Every trade is in 
full operation under your eye, for the workman 
brings bench and tools close to the window and 
door, that he may catch each morsel of light and 
air. You see shops where dinners already cooked 



IT 6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

can be bought by the plateful, dark cellars where 
charcoal and wood are sold by the bucketful, rooms 
where the finest artificial flowers are produced and 
the most exquisite needlework wrought. Millin- 
ery, dressmaking, wood-carving, ironing, shoe- 
making, baking, printing, and dollmaking, — in a 
word, almost every branch of industry known to 
the world seems to be in full operation in Paris. 
But the law regulates that these narrow streets 
shall soon become a thing of the past. Each new 
building is forced to stand back a certain number 
of feet, and the thoroughfares are rapidly becom- 
ing wide, well paved, and clean. In the time of 
Louis Philippe, when revolutions were imminent, 
it was but the work of a few moments for the 
easily-aroused mechanic to leave his bench and 
assist in building the barricade across the narrow 
way. Louis Napoleon learned a lesson from the 
fact, and hence the law, which is strictly enforced. 
To-day the ruins and blackened walls of palaces, 
works of art, and columns tell the sad story of the 
insane fury of the Communist. 

The history of France seems to be marked by 
kings and revolutions, and if we judge by the past 
she slumbers each hour on the verge of a political 



PARIS. j j j 

volcano. The idler of to-day may to-morrow 
man the barricade, and the industrious workman, 
who is repairing the Louvre, to-morrow assist at 
its destruction. I heard of a Frenchman who, 
possessed with an idea of the unstability of the 
government, went to New York and took lodging 
at a Broadway hotel. In the night there was an 
alarm of fire, and instantly the whole city seemed 
alive with howling, hurrying men. " Mon Dieu !" 
exclaimed the excited man, as he threw open his 
window, " the revolution has commenced." 

Our present quarters are adjoining the Palais 
Royal, a place most attractive to strangers. This 
superb palace was built in 1620 by Richelieu, who 
gave it to Louis XIII. Since that time it has 
played an important part in history, having been 
devastated by the mob, afterwards rebuilt, then set 
fire to by the Communists in 1871, until now only 
the part which escaped destruction is occupied. 
The court is inclosed by a Doric colonnade, which 
forms a hall paved with marble and roofed with 
glass, and where once royalty strolled is now 
ranged the most tempting and bewildering array 
of shops the eye ever looked upon. Diamonds, 
whose brilliancy is caught up, reflected, and re- 



H3 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

peated by plate glass, sparkle in their chaste and 
unique settings; great strings of pearls and opals 
festoon the sides ; curiously-carved coral tempts 
in its abundance; and bronzes, vases, glass, bijou- 
terie, and everything which can please the heart, 
is there in its most attractive form. Internally 
these shops are equally beautiful. The sides are 
formed of mirrors, the floors are tiled and spread 
with Turkish rugs, while the dark woodwork 
forms a striking contrast to the highly-polished 
show-cases. This is the secret of the attractive- 
ness of Paris. You may loiter and linger from 
morn until night, and each hour find something 
new and pleasing. If there is anything unsightly, 
it is hidden. In the centre of this brilliant array 
is a garden with fountains and flowers, and each 
day from five to six the band plays to the crowds 
of people who flock thither. Yesterday an air 
they played was familiar, and instantly a hundred 
voices joined in the chorus and sang as only 
Frenchmen can. It rains frequently, but nothing 
seems to interfere with out-door life. They seek 
refuge during the hardest of the shower, but a 
gleam of sunshine, and the streets are again dry, 
and the busy, bustling throng, all in commotion, 



PARIS. II9 

seem never to seek their homes until the small 
hours of the morning-. 

In every city we find more humane" and better 
regulated public conveyances than we have at 
home. Omnibuses here are built to hold so many 
persons, and once full the word " cOmplet" is dis- 
played, and no more are allowed to enter. And 
this leads me to another story of a young Ameri- 
can, who boasted of his proficiency in French, 
and who determined to see the city from the top 
of an omnibus. To do this successfully he fol- 
lowed every route excepting that which led to 
" Complet," and there, he says, he never could 
reach. 

As in England, we are sharing, or rather wit- 
nessing, the hospitalities extended to his sable 
majesty the Sultan of Zanzibar. On Sunday, at 
Versailles, the great fountains de Neptune and du 
Dragon played for his gratification, and we, of the 
people, shared in the pleasure. Of all the grand 
and beautiful places we have visited, the palace 
there is the most superb in its adornments and 
magnificent in proportions. Designed and built 
so regardless of cost that it impoverished a nation 
and caused a revolution, to-day it presents an in- 



20 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



terior not marred by time, and grounds so culti- 
vated and blooming that they are a never-failing 
pleasure and resort for the people. For sixty 
miles in circumference the country was purchased, 
and hills leveled or elevated, valleys excavated or 
filled up, to make this earthly Paradise. The 
studios of the world were ransacked for art- 
treasures to decorate the walls, and the most emi- 
nent talent of the time employed on busts and 
statues of those who asked no prouder epitaph 
than " killed in battling for France." Here for the 
first time we found recognition of American states- 
men and generals. In the Attique du Midi we saw 
portraits of Clay, Webster, and others, and upon 
the walls of the Galerie des Batailles a fine his- 
torical picture of Yorktown, with Washington and 
Rochambeau as principal figures. 

The Champ de Mars, historically one of the 
most interesting spots in France, is aside from that 
noteworthy as the place where the great exposi- 
tion of 1867 was held. The field, one thousand 
yards long by seven hundred yards wide, was in 
the short space of fifteen months the scene of 
much labor and success. A building gigantic in 
proportions was erected, huge trees transplanted, 



PARIS. 121 

gardens arranged and in full bloom, the industries 
of nations gathered together, and the world sum- 
moned to witness the sight. The exhibition over, 
every vestige of this grand spectacle was removed, 
and to-day, without a tree or shrub for shelter, the 
immense space totally uncultivated, it serves as a 
drilling-ground for the pupils of L'Ecole Militaire. 
During the fierce and bitter struggles of the Com- 
mune it was used as a burying-ground, in which 
victims were hastily deposited in ditches, covered 
with quicklime and earth, and left unknown and 
uncared for. 

In costumes the Frenchwomen do not imitate 
the gorgeous fabrics and fashion-plates they send 
us as the latest styles. They are neat, plain, and 
tasty, wearing good gloves, genteel bonnets, and 
sensible broad-soled shoes. They generally wear 
black or dark colors for street-dresses. The sim- 
ple yet stylish arrangement of a Frenchwoman's 
collar and neck-tie is an art which will never reach 
our side of the Atlantic, for there is an air and 
grace about it perfectly inimitable. Let me tell 
my young friends, and some of my old ones at the 
same time, that ladies here do not wear their 
clothes pinned or fastened around them in the 



I2 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

outrageous style now in vogue with us. If a 
Parisian correspondent is not authority on this 
subject, where will you look for reliable informa- 
tion ? 

From dress to shopping the transition is easy, 
and that occupation so congenial to the female 
taste is here a fine but bewildering art. Each 
dealer seems to have been notified of your coming, 
and studied what your needs would be, so that 
you have but to select. They certainly have the 
greatest aggregation of goods, chosen with taste, 
judgment, and care, and arranged to induce you 
to admire, then buy. Every article which could 
please the heart of womankind and open the mas- 
culine purse-strings appears to shoot into notice 
as you pass along the gay Boulevards ; every 
little household convenience which you just need 
is already labeled, awaiting you. Velvets, silks, 
laces, ribbons, handkerchiefs, bonnets, caps, dresses, 
mantles, pearls, diamonds and jewelry, everything 
dazzling and beautiful, go to form this radiant 
maze. Never before was I so thankful for being 
" strong-minded," for thus and thus alone, aided 
by a sense of poverty, can you turn aside from 
these attractions. 



PARIS. I2 3 

From life to death we must all go, and yester- 
day was devoted to a visit to Pere La Chaise, a 
cemetery known and famed throughout the land. 
The street leading thereto is a most lugubrious 
thoroughfare, being entirely devoted to shops 
containing mortuary designs, many of which, 
unique in character, are neither expensive, ex- 
pressive, nor attractive. The figures are generally 
made of plaster of Paris, and the innumerable 
wreaths, crosses, chains, and designs, of black and 
white beads. Situated on a hill commanding a 
view of the city, this vast assemblage of the dead 
is an object of interest and attracts crowds of vis- 
itors. Here you realize the number of those of 
whom it is truly said they have "gone over to the 
majority." Here is the resting-place of men of 
letters, of those who won fame upon the battle- 
field, and of princes and titled ones. A grassy 
spot inclosed by a railing, yet containing neither 
monument nor name, shows the visitor where lies 
the body of Marshal Ney, o'er whom Napoleon 
wept, and was once wont to declare the "bravest 
of the brave." La Fontaine, a name dear to every 
lover of fables, his tomb surmounted by a fox, 
sleeps side by side with Moliere. Cherubini and 



124 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



Bellini, known and worshiped in the world of 
music, lie on a sunny slope, and upon the hill- 
side we pause and reverently bow, for the word 
Talma brings back the story of the greatest tra- 
gedian of the world. Higher up are the beautiful 
monuments to Sidney Smith and Volney, and in 
the quarter devoted to Jews the tomb of Rachel. 
Sueur, the author of Paul and Virginia, Gay-Lus- 
sac, Massena, and a host of names bright and 
shining in their record, are here. We retraced our 
steps and made a pious pilgrimage to the tomb 
of the most noted lovers of antiquity, Abelard and 
Helo'ise. In youth cruel fate separated them, in 
middle life they were fettered by religious vows, 
but in death they are not divided. The inclosure 
is filled with scaffolding, for the monument is 
undergoing repairs, so that our view was not 
quite satisfactory. Here is the shrine at which 
the maidens of Paris worship, and they come 
hither at all seasons, bearing wreaths and em- 
blems of white flowers, to show their sympathy 
for this unhappy pair. Age has doubtless mel- 
lowed the story of their sufferings into its present 
romantic form, and thrown around it the halo and 
charm which in all time is associated with un- 



PARIS. 12$ 

happy love. In some sections of the cemetery 
the decorations almost provoke a smile by their 
absurdity. Small figures, candles, half-worn toys, 
immortelles, tablets, pathetic inscriptions, and 
thousands of bouquets, wreaths, crosses, and long 
strings of black and white beads, are supposed to 
express and be emblematic of the grief and affec- 
tion of the survivor. I copied from one tomb- 
stone the following, which is thoroughly original 
and tells the whole story : 

" John P. Simon, 
Regretted by his widow, 
Regretted by his mother, 
Regretted by his brothers, 
Regretted by his sister-in-law, 
and by all his family and friends." 

Strolling through what was the original Paris, 
we came to a low building on the banks of the 
Seine, which curiosity, mingled with a strange 
fear, impelled us to enter. The rear entrance to 
the Morgue admits none but ghastly, ghostly 
occupants. Through the front door the train of 
humanity, who pass in with frightened, half- 
expectant glances, seems never to cease. This 
day no "one more unfortunate" had "gone to her 



126 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

death," and the narrow iron beds were empty. 
The clothes, the shoes, and any little trinkets hang 
around the walls to assist and quicken the memo- 
ries of those who with white, anxious faces rush 
in, glance through the glass, and go away sorrow- 
ful. Ah, these inner walls could tell many stories 
of griefs hidden, and brain crazed, ere the quick- 
flowing Seine swallowed its burden ; but it could 
tell other and sadder tales of living hearts which 
broke outside the bars, yet " brokenly lived on." 
Suicides are, alas ! too common among the people 
of Paris. Their unfortunate matrimonial relations 
and the loose state of morality sanctioned by 
law naturally lead to much unhappiness. Wives 
and husbands not only are content, but happier, 
apart; children are brought up ignorant of pa- 
rental love and home ties; a domestic revolution 
ensues, suicide follows, and the whole matter is 
forgotten. 

Everything attractive naturally gravitates to- 
wards Paris, and to the French it is the world. 
Frivolous and volatile, here they eat, drink, and 
are merry, and to-morrow, if trouble comes, they 
die. 

Their newspapers contain but little news out- 



PARIS. Y 2 j 

side of their own country, and the children are 
educated with regard to France, her history and 
achievements, but in woeful ignorance of the world 
beyond. 

Louis Napoleon thoroughly understood the na- 
ture of the people. They must be amused, and 
their national pride encouraged, so he went to 
work to beautify and build up Paris in a style of 
magnificence which no other city can show. It is 
truly said he created the Bois de Boulogne, with 
its lovely, winding, shady walks, smooth, exten- 
sive drives, lakes, grottoes, and cascades ; and 
while yesterday the populace praised and wor- 
shiped the genius which devised that they might 
have employment in the execution and gratifica- 
tion therefrom, to-day the broken, battered statues, 
half-burnt palaces, trees with branches shot away, 
tell the story of the Commune, and every avenue 
or street, every building or cafe, which bore a 
name suggestive of royalty, has been changed ; 
for when the last cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" died 
away, he was not only to be dead but forgotten. 



X. 



PARIS. 

The Catacombs — Industrial Exhibition — Theatre-Accommoda- 
tions. 

Having inspected almost everything above 
ground usually attractive to the visitor, at the 
suggestion of a friend we obtained permission 
from the Prefect of the Seine to carry our obser- 
vations beneath the surface, — to the receptacles for 
the bones of the dead of Paris, — where lie in state, 
as it were, all that is left of probably not less than 
three millions of human beings. We had written 
to his honor the Prefect more than a week be- 
fore receiving our ticket admitting seven persons. 
Arriving at the entrance, the old Barriere d'Enfer 
(gate of hell), we found to our surprise not less 
than five hundred people, each one, like ourselves, 
with candle in hand, eagerly waiting to descend 
into this vast charnel-house. It was fully an hour 
before the last of the ghostly procession arrived at 
128 



PARIS. 



129 



the bottom of the winding stone steps, hundreds 
of feet beneath the city's surface. Then began 
a march of half a mile through a damp, narrow 
passage, substantially walled, with now and then 
a little more water mixed with the sandy foot-path 
than was agreeable, at the termination of which 
we met the first compact layer of bones. These 
were piled as closely together as sardines in a box, 
the various parts of the human frame being made 
to fit thus by placing all similar bones together. 
The skulls are in the centre of the arrangement, 
and present a wonderfully neat finish. The streets 
in which they are piled are about four feet wide 
and ten feet high " in the clear," as the carpenters 
say. We followed one another, single file, in and 
out the different avenues, with "dry bones" to 
the right and left of us in endless and nameless 
variety. The streets correspond exactly with the 
principal streets on the surface, and have the same 
names. Occasionally we saw a monument erected 
to the memory of some particular person, and' 
again a gallery devoted to the contents of a par- 
ticular cemetery, with suitable inscriptions. In 
many places persons have carved their names and 
time of visit. A dark line on the ceiling is in- 



130 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



tended to prevent people wandering from the 
street leading out, but in addition to this large 
chains are fastened across the avenues not open 
to the public. For many years, owing to the 
dangerous condition of the ceilings, visitors were 
refused admittance to any part. The walk con- 
sumes about an hour, and is probably performed 
but once by even the most inveterate sight-seer. 
At least I heard no one say they cared to' repeat 
the experience, — not even the young man walking 
in front of me, who succeeded in extracting; a 
tooth as a memento. 

These catacombs were first devoted to their 
present purpose in 1784, when a decree was is- 
sued ordering the clearing of the Cemetery of the 
Innocents, together with other old burial-places. 
They had existed from a remote period as quar- 
ries, from which building -stone was obtained. 
The Luxembourg, the Pantheon, and other noted 
buildings, have their foundations above them. The 
ceremony of consecrating them occurred April 7, 
1786, on the evening of which the work of remov- 
ing the dead began. This work was all performed 
at night, the bones, which were conveyed in fu- 
neral cars, being followed by priests chanting the 



PARIS. 



31 



service. The remains were at first shot down a 
shaft, in confusion, each cemetery being kept 
separate. It was not until 18 10 that the present 
regular system of arranging them was com- 
menced. 

Among the present attractions in Paris is the 
exhibition of manufactured articles at the Palais 
de l'lndustrie. The building is admirably adapted 
for the purpose, resembling somewhat the old 
London Crystal Palace, after which it was erected 
by a company in 1852-55. It is now owned by 
the government. The display is much larger and 
more varied than the similar exhibition in 1874 
in Philadelphia by the Franklin Institute. For 
utility and workmanship, however, in such articles 
as vehicles, household furniture, machinery, and 
the larger and more valuable manufactures, a 
similar display in America would be anything but 
creditable to our modern genius. Even the Ameri- 
can sewing-machines, manufactured in France, are 
clumsy and lacking that finish we see in our own 
country. In machinery the French appear to ac- 
complish very little. The printing-presses on ex- 
hibition are very complicated, and, whilst capable 
no doubt of good work, would not recommend 



132 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



themselves to practical printers, who find the 
simplest piece of machinery usually the best. A 
display of electrical button call-bells, now greatly 
used in European hotels, attracted my attention. 
They are cheap, easily applied, and will no doubt 
come into general use. 

At the International Exhibition of Geographical 
Science, which has also been in progress for some 
time, there is a fine display of American Coast- 
Survey Maps. The latter exhibition attracts the 
attention of scientists generally, and is visited by 
thousands. A resident of Paris, speaking to me 
upon the subject, remarked that there was no 
branch of science concerning which the average 
Frenchman knew less than that of geography. 
The map of France is hung up on the wall, and 
beyond that little is generally known. The schools 
teach nothing else in the way of geography, and 
not much of that. My friend told me that indeed 
it was not until the Prussians gave the French 
army officers a few well-known practical lessons 
that even some of the oldest of them became 
familiar with the locality of towns in their own 
country. It is said that a certain publisher got 
hold of a map of France made by the Germans 



PARIS. ,33 

during the war, and, adding a few towns omitted 
as not important, has issued it as the latest and 
most accurate. Whether or not it was among the 
collection on exhibition I did not ascertain. 

For beautiful specimens of architecture Paris is 
unexcelled ; yet nowhere will you find so poor 
accommodations for an audience, whether it be in 
the church or in the theatre. The old, unpainted, 
rush-bottom c/iairs, everywhere to be seen in Notre 
Dame, are continually being pushed and made to 
disturb the religious exercises. Every cathedral 
in Europe has the same old article of seating 
furniture. But, unlike the theatres, the churches 
have ample ventilation. The boxes in the Grand 
Opera-House, unquestionably not only the most 
costly but the finest building of the kind in exist- 
ence, are so constructed that it is almost impossi- 
ble for about one-third of the audience to see the 
stage when seated. The heat from the gas-lights 
is so great that persons in the upper boxes are 
compelled frequently to leave the building; whilst 
others, disgusted with having paid two dollars for 
a seat from which the stage is not visible, inspect 
the magnificent interior, its foyer of rarest marble, 
etc., and go away satisfied or dissatisfied at having 

12* 



j 24 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

at least seen the edifice. The ill-ventilated, pent- 
up theatres are reached through very small en- 
trances, and the audience, to be able.to endure the 
entire performance, are generally given from fifteen 
minutes to half an hour intermission between acts 
to recuperate as best they can. But the plays, as 
in London, are better put upon the stage than 
they are in America. The French here again, 
however, demonstrate their disposition for ex- 
tremes, for where thousands of them are enjoying 
themselves in this way tens of thousands are found 
at the garden concert. 



XL 



PARIS. 



Postal System — Ravages of the Commune — The Louvre— Column 
Venddme — Paris Streets. 

In Paris there are six postal deliveries each 
day. The system appears to be very complete. 
The carriers are sent out in omnibuses to their 
respective districts, and, after going their rounds, 
at stated hours again take the 'bus for the general 
"office. In this way only could the city be thus 
well accommodated. The government is forced, 
however, to keep a strict surveillance over corre- 
spondence, and may inspect anything passing 
through the hands of officials. 

The weather this summer has been extremely 
pleasant, the thermometer seldom marking higher 
than seventy-five degrees. To-day it indicates 
sixty-eight, with the second day of- light, continu- 
ous rain. The atmospheric condition has rendered 
a visit less irksome to the traveler, and caused 

135 



136 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



really an unlooked-for number of strangers on the 
streets. The first half of July was a constant suc- 
cession of showers in France. This did not prom- 
ise well for the wheat crop, and Americans were 
congratulating themselves that their exporters this 
year would be liberal purchasers. The next two 
weeks, however, were more favorable. The warm- 
est weather I experienced was in Switzerland, 
where, unless you ascend the mountains, the 
"heated term" exists to perfection. The streets 
and gardens of Paris, at the same time, are com- 
paratively cool, — the streets, most of them, ren- 
dered so by their narrow, devious course, and tall 
houses; the gardens by the grand and beautiful 
mingling of tree and fountain. We have been for- 
tunate in our selection of time to view the city and 
its environs, and this we have done to an extent 
quite forbidding anything like a faithful descrip- 
tion. To be appreciated Paris must be visited, for 
no pen-picture, however carefully drawn, can do 
justice to the subject. 

I have walked over the principal portions of the 
city, and seen what Paris was before the time of 
Napoleon III. The very narrow streets, and side- 
walks accommodating but two persons abreast, 



PARIS. j 07 

contin.ually crowded with man and beast, are any- 
thing but agreeable to the American stranger. The 
Frenchman will point to those latterly made wider, 
and tell you that Napoleon caused the alteration 
to prevent the turbulent populace erecting barri- 
cades ; but "the truth is, the Emperor, wiser than 
his predecessors (and I fear his successors too), 
had in view more particularly the modernizing 
the city, and putting into practice his excellent 
judgment we see now as a result the chief attrac- 
tions of Paris. The city suffered much in 1870 
and 1 87 1, and it will be many years before the 
evidences of the atrocious deeds of the Commune 
are obliterated ; but the advance France has made 
in repairing some of the more elaborate and ex- 
pensive buildings, the progress towards regaining' 
her former prestige, her ascendency in art and lit- 
erature, are truly surprising. The palace of the 
Louvre retains its wonderful store of curiosities in 
the shape of rare paintings, exquisite sculpture, and 
antiquated specimens of various articles from all 
parts of the world. The building was commenced 
in 1528, but in 1802 it was fast falling into ruin. 
Napoleon I., however, resumed work upon and 
finished the building, which was subsequently fur- 



138 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



ther extended by Napoleon III. The Commune of 
course could not allow so fine an opportunity for 
Vandalism to pass, and accordingly set fire to and 
entirely destroyed that portion of the new Louvre 
or Tuileries facing the garden. The wings are 
being repaired, and eventually the centre building, 
from the windows of which Louis Philippe and 
Napoleon III. so often admiringly gazed, will also 
be restored, the partially destroyed walls being 
sufficiently well preserved for the new building. 
The Column Vendome, erected by Napoleon I., one 
hundred and thirty-five feet high, also destroyed by 
the Commune, has been almost restored. It will 
be remembered that this splendid monument was 
demolished by the Communists sawing away a 
portion of the base, and then with ropes attached 
to the top pulling it over. The entire column was 
covered with slightly raised figures representing 
important events in the history of France. These 
were broken in being dashed to the ground, but 
were subsequently recovered from the populace, 
who had gathered them as mementos, and are 
now in the column. The splendid statuary in the 
Place de la Concorde, decidedly the most attractr 
ive square (if square I may be allowed to call it) 



PARIS. I39 

in Paris, also shows the execution of the bullets in 
the last unfortunate war. The figures are repaired 
in many parts, a finger, portion of an arm, or other 
limb, shot away, having been replaced. The new 
marble and sandstone, however, contrast badly 
with the older portions of the statuary. Looking 
from the same stand-point up the broad and beau- 
tiful Champs Elysees, and to the right and left, 
showing a view of the Madeleine on the one hand 
and the Legislative Palace and dome of the Inva- 
lides on the other, you see also the result of the 
ravages of war in the numerous young trees that 
have taken the place of those shot away, and the 
broken limbs of the old storm-tried ones still re- 
maining. 

Immediately upon the restoration of peace an 
edict was issued requiring citizens to obliterate as 
far as possible all evidences of conflict, and many 
of the newly-plastered walls in portions of the city 
otherwise presenting a decidedly musty appear- 
ance are the result of the effort to cover the scars 
made by the bullets of the Commune. The ruins 
of the once magnificent Hotel de Ville are only 
just now giving place to a new structure. As in 
the case of other buildings destroyed, the plans of 



140 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



this one were preserved, and it will no doubt some 
day again loom up in all its original grandeur. In 
traveling through the cities of Holland, Belgium, 
Germany, Switzerland, and France, one sees the 
same narrow streets, compelling pedestrians and 
the brute creation to use alike the same thorough- 
fare. In Rotterdam and Amsterdam this is par- 
ticularly noticeable. These old Dutch cities are 
almost entirely without foot-pavements, and will 
be no better until, as in Paris, the law shall com- 
pel all new buildings to front a certain distance 
from the line of the old, thus affording additional 
and much-needed street-room. In no instance 
was this kind of public improvement more praise- 
worthy than when Napoleon III. caused the form- 
ing of the Boulevard Richard Lenoir, which was 
originally a canal lined on both sides for more 
than a mile with miserable old buildings, the 
refuge of rats and the human scum of Paris. The 
houses were destroyed and an arch thrown over 
the canal. It presents now a beautiful, wide street, 
with here and there fountains and basins of water, 
in which are air-shafts, protected by railings en- 
circling ornamental shrubs and flowers. The large 
boats still ascend and descend the canal, but the 



PARIS. 



141 



stranger would never know of the existence of the 
subterranean passage were his attention not called 
to it. But, though Paris streets have been greatly 
improved and many of them made to compare 
favorably with, whilst a very few excel, those in 
our own cities, the great majority of them are 
narrow and entirely inadequate for business and 
travel ; yet with all this they are kept remarkably 
clean. Those not showing the Belgian blocks 
(almost universally used in Europe) have a surface 
of asphaltum. An army of sweepers is constantly 
at work, and the gutters are relieved of the night's 
accumulation very early in the morning. 



XII. 

PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 
A Visit to Worth's — Places and Objects of Interest. 

When Miss Leslie, the authoress, was asked 
from which of her works she derived the most 
popularity and profit, she replied, " From the one 
written upon a subject about which I know the 
least, namely, my ' Cook Book.' " So, my dear 
female friends, knowing my deficiencies in regard 
to dress and its thousand details, but feeling that 
you are struggling along in the Egyptian darkness 
of America, I have endeavored to glean for your 
benefit some of the jargon known as fashion intel- 
ligence, that I might waft it to comfort, cheer, and 
lighten your labors for the coming winter. With 
feet weary I have gone to see " styles," listened to 
dissertations on jupes, double jupes, tabliers^ gar- 
niture, dentelles, fabriques et boutons, admired the 
grace and adroitness with which several hundred 
French girls displayed a similar amount of drapery, 
142 



PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 



143 



which no powers of persuasion could induce me 
to believe would have an equally fine effect upon 
me; yea, in pursuit of knowledge on this all-im- 
portant subject I have penetrated into the estab- 
lishment of Worth, and what higher authority 
could any one desire? Alas that I should have 
to confess it, but the great Mogul of the world of 
fashion was out of town, meditating, I presume, 
on coming combinations, toilettes, and victories. 
But as it was works, not Worth, I went to see, I 
found his satellites polite and obliging relative to 
the momentous question of the fashions of the 
autumn and winter. 

Black silk still continues the favorite fabric for 
costumes, although a new material, called Sici- 
lienne, promises to be more popular for cold 
weather. It is similar in appearance, and said to 
be serviceable. 

The days of the polonaise are numbered. 
Basques are universal. They are short, round, 
and but little trimmed. Very small buttons are 
used, and sleeves are made tight, frequently orna- 
mented with a bow at the hand. If fringe is used 
for trimming it is knotted in the silk, and is thick 
and rich. * Overskirts are looped high at the sides, 



144 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



and are so bouffant that crinoline or a tournure 
is unnecessary. The underskirts are narrow, but 
most elaborately trimmed, with flounces, plissees, 
and box pleats. 

I saw some handsome traveling- and street-suits 
of gray, drab, and blue cloth, the underskirts 
finished by a pleat alternated with wide braid, the 
overskirt trimmed with a single row of the same 
military braid, and the waist a sort of combination 
of vest and half-tight jacket. A ribbon-bow was 
placed at the back of the neck and at the waist. 

For parties and evening wear delicate shades 
of blue, pink, pearl, and mauve are used. The 
dresses are made high in the neck, with long 
sleeves, over which is worn a tablier overskirt and 
sleeveless jacket of Valenciennes lace and muslin. 
At the opera the majority of young ladies wore 
dresses exceedingly " decollete," while matrons 
heightened their charms by indulging in the 
heart-shaped style, decorously trimmed with lace 
or illusion and ornamented with a brooch or neat 
bouquet. 

Gold and silver braid will be extensively used 
on dresses, cloaks, and wraps. It is expensive 
and showy. 



PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 145 

The newest wraps are simply small round capes, 
reaching only to the waist, but entirely covered 
with lace, braid, and fringe. The dolman is much 
used. All the cloaks are very short behind, but 
long and elaborate in front. The slope seems to 
commence at the hips. Most of these garments 
are embroidered and finished with feather trim- 
ming : not the stiff, ungraceful, unserviceable 
article in vogue with us, but soft, variegated, and 
made entirely of genuine tips. It is of course pro- 
portionately expensive. Passementerie and lace 
are but little used, but jet still retains its sway. 
At Worth's we saw a velvet coat just completed, 
the rolling collar of which was entirely formed of 
beads. 

Street-dresses are cut much lower in the neck 
than with us. This permits the wearing of a wide, 
flaring, white collar not used by us. Long scarfs 
of guipure lace are fastened to the front of the 
corsage by a bow, then caught on the shoulder, 
tied at the waist and allowed to hang gracefully 
as. a sash. • 

You meet very few ladies who are not enveloped 
in some sort of outside wrap. Suits without them 
are not considered full dress. 



146 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



The milliners' windows are beginning to be gay 
with new styles, which at this early date do not 
differ materially from the old ones. Those curi- 
ously contrived structures which cost so much 
money and are disfiguring to the wearer, but to 
which we cling so fondly because they are im- 
ported, are unknown here. The neatest, jauntiest 
" chapeaux" are certainly the most fashionable in 
Paris. The most I have seen are simply trimmed 
with a wreath of flowers, without an atom of lace, 
ribbon, or illusion. Flowers are not to be used 
for face-trimming during the autumn, as the brim 
fits rather close, is turned up at the back and the 
trimming placed there. Nasturtions, wall-flowers, 
and berries are coming into bloom, and poppies 
have gone to seed. 

The coiffure a la Grecque is either a trans- 
Atlantic invention or else passe here, for the hair 
is still arranged with a wonderful multiplicity of 
puffs, braids, curls, and even the coronet is worn. 

Gloves must still match the costume and have 
at least three buttons, but fashion decrees they 
shall no longer be stitched at the back. The pur- 
chase of this very important addition to every 
lady's toilette is a much more complicated business 



PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. I ^y 

than with us. You first select the color from a 
book of kid samples, then are measured with the 
same accuracy and detail as you would be for 
shoes. A day is appointed, and you go and try 
a pair on and make any suggestions and altera- 
tions ere your order is filled. When completed, 
each pair is fitted on, and Mademoiselle tells you, 
with sparkling eyes, "They are marvelous, but 
Madame's hand is so neat!" The best quality of 
gloves cost per dozen about eighteen dollars in 
gold. 

Trying on goods is part of the Parisian code. 
No matter what the quality or style of garment 
may be, you are invited to practically test the fit. 

The shopkeepers learn your address, and you 
are overwhelmed with circulars. Persons are sent 
to the hotels with boxes of ready-made clothing, 
and samples are freely and generously given. In 
some cases they endeavor to make you think you 
have ordered goods. I have seen men with goods 
wait for hours for the return of a party to whom 
they wished to exhibit some rare article, evidently 
thinking a sale would be secured if they could be 
examined, and verily in most cases they have their 
reward. 



4 8 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



The amount of shopping done by strangers who 
visit this city is something marvelous. As every 
joke must be at some one's expense, I might as 
well tell one of which I was an eye-witness and in 
a manner " assisted." The editor has been made 
miserable ever since he landed in this world of 
arts, sciences, and manufactures, by his inability to 
procure an American style of paper collar, which 
he considers indispensable to his appearance and 
happiness. Having exhausted his small stock of 
French, and vainly brought into play every avail- 
able gesture and grimace in his attempt to find the 
article, he one morning invited a female friend and 
myself to accompany him in one more search. 
We finally found a shop in attendance upon which 
was a sparkling brunette, who did talking enough 
for the whole party, and who smiled, showing a 
set of faultless white teeth, and assured us she 
could " suit Monsieur if he would remove his 
collar." The new one was produced, and my hero 
essayed to put it on. But the button-hole was 
intractable, and in vain he pulled and tugged, 
cheered on by the maiden, who mixed a little 
French, a little German, and a good bit of laugh- 
ter. Finally, warm, red, and dismayed, he was 



PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 



149 



about to abandon the attempt, when in a trice 
Mademoiselle approached, and, both arms around 
his neck, the situation seemed complete. But their 
united efforts could not make that collar fit, and with 
rueful countenance, a shrug of her shoulders, and 
eyebrows raised, she pronounced it the fault of Mon- 
sieur's chemise, which was " too low in the neck." 
Hand-made underclothing is abundant and 
cheap. Embroideries ditto. White skirts are most 
elaborately trimmed and flounced. They are made 
but a trifle shorter than the dress, which adds to 
their untidiness, but makes the outer garment 
hang better. Colored stockings and slippers are 
invariably worn this season, but for winter highly- 
ornamented kid boots made very high are ex- 
hibited. Silk handkerchiefs for gentlemen; linen, 
embroidered with a single initial, are the correct 
thing for ladies. Plain net veils are rigorously 
adhered to, and are in most cases wonderful 
beautifiers. Valenciennes and Duchesse lace are 
the newest and most expensive things in neck- 
ties. The latter are more showy than the former. 
Parasols with feather trimmings are handsome and 
costly, but many good, substantial sun umbrellas 
are seen on the boulevard. 



i5o 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



Worth expects to begin in about two weeks to 
fill his orders for America, and having completed 
them he will proceed to concoct those marvelous 
toilettes which are so faultlessly superb that they 
are never sent to us. His rooms are spacious and 
well furnished, the attendants elegantly dressed 
and with the manners of Sultanas. He furnishes 
material, style, trimmings ; takes no suggestions, 
leaving nothing to perplex his customer's mind 
but the bill, which is said sometimes to cause 
anxious thought both before and after its present- 
ation. 

Persons in America have very erroneous ideas 
about the cost of articles here. Buy what is good 
in quality and desirable in style, and the price is 
but little less than with us. Those staple com- 
modities, velvet, silk, lace, jewelry, and bronzes, 
are of course less expensive; but they are luxuries 
of which we should only buy out of our abund- 
ance. Provisions, fruit, and the necessaries of life 
are about the same prices as with us. 

Paris has been truly called a Paradise for shop- 
ping. You might walk every day in the year 
through the streets, and always find something 
new to examine, admire, and buy. The French- 



PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. x t\ 

man is too diplomatic ever to acknowledge he has 
not the article you desire. To get you in the shop 
and seated is his first object; then he either pre- 
sumes upon your ignorance or his powers of per- 
suasion to induce you to take something else. 
The varied amusement which the study of charac- 
ter of these people has afforded us has been worth 
all it costs to come abroad, for they are so entirely 
different from any other. They have their own 
aims and objects ; neither know nor care for any- 
thing out of that circle. They are no travelers, — 
very few of them speak any language but the 
mother-tongue; have but few newspapers, and 
those contain little news except of France. In a 
word, they are abundantly content with their 
country, her customs and manners. 

This city is the very centre and home of art. 
Concerts of the first order are daily and nightly 
given in parks and gardens. In the Louvre the 
amateur could find enough to delight for days, 
and the artist be afforded an opportunity to copy 
the finest works of the ancient and modern schools 
of paintings. 

There is probably no place more thronged with 
strangers than the tomb of Napoleon, which in 



l c 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

many respects is most impressive and solemn, — a 
monument of the victories of the hero who rests 
there, and a fitting gift of the people from whom 
his heart never swerved. 

At the entrance to the crypt are two Corinthian 
columns, dedicated to his two Marshals who were 
his friends in adversity, and over the door the 
words which he dictated with dying breath : " I 
desire that my ashes may repose on the banks of 
the Seine, in the midst of the French people, 
whom I have ever loved." 

All these and tenfold more places of interest 
have we visited ; but it would be vain for me to 
attempt to convey a tithe of their grandeur and 
beauty. They are studies to the student, savant, 
or casual observer. 

The Opera-House, truly said to be the finest in 
the world, is open three nights in the week, and, 
despite the heat, is generally crowded. Like 
everything else in Europe, out of twenty rows of 
seats in the parquet, the best in the house, about 
fourteen are reserved for the exclusive use of man- 
kind. Ladies are compelled to occupy the boxes, 
which despite their handsome upholstering are 
close and uncomfortable. The promenade hall, to 



PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 



153 



which every one repairs between the acts, glitters 
like an Eastern palace. No tale of the Arabian 
Nights was ever more resplendent with lights, 
gilding, and frescoes. Mirrors multiply the mag- 
nificence, tall columns support the richly-painted 
ceilings, polished floors re-echo with the footsteps 
of the gay throng, and fountains, marble stairways, 
statues, and carvings, make it seem more like a 
dream than reality. 

Paris is not by any means the cosmopolitan city 
I expected to find, but it is comfortable, light, 
bright, bewitching, and cheery, and, above all> 
so cheap that it annually attracts multitudes of 
strangers who tarry but a while, spend their money 
freely, haunt the ever-lively parks and gardens, 
listen to the sirens of the concert saloons, are 
deluded into buying a lot of French garments, 
and then go home to remember the pleasant 
dream of the out-door life of their Parisian sum- 
mer. We dined with a couple of Scotch people 
who afforded us considerable amusement. The 
husband was a sturdy, middle-aged man, who, by 
virtue of a previous trip, thought himself able to 
resist the " world, the flesh, and the devil," but it 
was evidently Ma's first excursion abroad, and 

H 



154 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



there had been considerable preparation therefor. 
Her head was surmounted by an almost indescrib- 
able yet marvelous structure of lace, tinsel, and 
feathers, a most substantial chain encircled her 
neck, and her whole costume manifested time, 
thought, and expense. The poor woman, whose 
physique was robust, was struggling frightfully 
with the 'eat, and in her efforts to sustain herself 
in a fashionable manner grew 'otter and 'otter. 
We had been out on the usual Sabbath afternoon 
promenade, the Champs Elysees, where on the first 
day of the week the attractions are doubled. The 
circus and various cafes give matinees, and in an- 
ticipation of the rich harvest various temporary 
saloons, flying horses, Punch and Judy shows, 
swings, and targets are erected. So we endeav- 
ored to persuade her that she would be gratified 
by going thither. Never shall I forget the look 
of holy horror she cast upon me as she replied, 
" At home I spend my Sundays at the kirk. Do 
ye think I would go to the likes of that on the 
Lord's own day? Paris may be 'andsome, but it 
is a most ungodly place, where they seem to have 
forgotten the fourth commandment." My con- 
science told me it was indeed a true commentary 



PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 



155 



on the whole proceeding, and, finding her to be 
rigid in her Sabbatarian principles, I suggested 
that she visit the "Siege of Paris," explaining, its 
nature and assuring her that there at least she 
would find nothing objectionable. " Well," she 
replied, in her honest, guileless way, " I wouldn't 
mind going the length of that ; but nothing shall 
induce me to encourage them singin' and dancin' 
women." I have thought of her many times since, 
so simple-minded and sincere in her faith, but I 
could tell her that in two days' tarry in " Edin- 
boro' town" I saw more drunkenness and rowdy- 
ism than I did during my entire stay in ungodly 
Paris. 



XIII. 

THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Return to London — Windsor — Warwick Castle — Kenilworth — 
Stratford-upon-Avon — The Shakspeare Inn — Chatsworth — 
Feeling of the English towards America. 

To return to London after a two months' so- 
journ on the Continent seems almost like coming 
home ; it is such an inexpressible comfort to 
eat, drink, shop, talk, and travel in the English 
language. 

Pleasant as had been our summer, the greater 
part had been passed in cities, and we felt that we 
wanted to see something of the country homes of 
England, to peep in where it was allowable, and to 
pass once' more through a land more productive 
and beautiful than even our fondest expectations 
had pictured. We had first seen it in the early 
summer, when the delicacy and beauty of hedge 
and sward seemed incomparable, but within a few 
days we have again traversed it, and, although 
156 






THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. jty 

autumn's glories are tinting forest and vine, the 
turf is still like velvet, the grain, yellow and wav- 
ing, adds variety, and the lawns and gardens, all 
glowing with the hues of many flowers, make a 
scene even more pleasing than that which first 
greeted us. 

Windsor is indeed a royal home, fit for the good 
motherly woman who sometimes sojourns there, 
and whose life even in its domestic details is open 
to the inspection of her people. Neither in archi- 
tectural design nor in adornment do the parts 
to which the public have access equal the stately 
homes of some of her subjects; but the far-reach- 
ing park, grand old trees, magnificent drives, 
walks, and views, with the historical associations 
of the neighborhood, make it a place of interest 
and attention. Eton with its famous college is but 
a step away, and from the turret you can see the 
home of the poet Gray, and from the harmony of 
the landscape almost imagine what suggested his 
world-renowned Elegy. 

"The curfew toll'd the knell of parting day" as 
we neared Warwick. Our first view of what Scott 
calls "the fairest monument of ancient and chival- 
rous splendor which yet remains uninjured by 
'4* 4-,v^e" 



53 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



time," was more like a revelation than a thing of 
earthly creation and beauty, for the night was 
cloudless, and the full harvest moon threw her 
silver rays o'er castle, towns, and wood, while the 
peaceful Avon caught up and reflected the scene 
with a strange and mellowed effect. Do you 
wonder we forgot the ravages of time and fire, for 
it seemed so impregnable that we almost believed 
the legend of the founder, the first Guy, a giant 
nine feet high, who feasted thirty thousand men 
at his board, and was victorious in conflict, and a 
true knight sans penr et sans reproche among his 
followers. I never realized before how memories 
would cling to and people a place. We walk 
mechanically through these stately piles, while 
thoughts go centuries back, listen to the oft-told 
story which falls monotonously on our ears, but 
before us is a strange pageant seen to the mind 
alone, for the forms which were once of life and 
beauty have crumbled to dust ages ago. 

How truthfully Fuller says that " a man travel- 
ing many miles cannot meet so much astonishing 
variety as this furlong doth afford !" for we were 
in the neighborhood of Kenilworth, around which 
Scott has thrown the glamour of romance in con- 



THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. l $g 

nection with England's proud Earl and the sad 
fate of lovely, trusting Amy Robsart. It is a more 
complete ruin than we expected to find. Many of 
the walls have fallen within the past few years, and 
others are marked " dangerous." The stately en- 
trance which Leicester decked so gayly to receive 
the queen whose throne, despite his own marital 
vows, he hoped to share, is a heap of stones, and 
the lofty banqueting-hall the abode of owls and 
bats. The holly and ivy alone are untouched by 
time and decay. Even the massive stairways, 
which re-echoed to the trooping of armed hosts, 
are crumbling away, and the whole is a scene of 
ruin and desolation. 

But we had tarried sufficiently long in places 
renowned for deeds of prowess and ofttimes 
cruelty: so in the gloaming we turned our steps 
towards a spot cherished by the nation, revered 
by the world, and marked by a monument more 
enduring than stone or battlement ; for the fame 
of Shakspeare will grow brighter while years roll 
on, and as men and women become truly educated 
and thoroughly cultivated will they appreciate 
more and more the genius which glows in every 
line of his works. Stratford-upon-Avon is a simple 



x 6o A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

country village of neither architectural beauty nor 
pretension. Half hidden away from the world's 
busy cares, it is known only as the spot where the 
poet of all time lived, loved, and died. It is the 
haunt of sage and scholar, and guarded as jeal- 
ously as the richest jewel in the monarch's crown. 
To be consistent, we lodged in Shakspeare Inn, in 
a chamber called by poetic license "All's well that 
ends well," with " Romeo and Juliet" for next 
neighbors, and the " Merchant of Venice" across 
the way. We forgot to do things in a Pickwickian 
sense, — here all was so unmistakably Shaksperian. 
Over the stairway hung a fine portrait of the 
boyish Will, underneath which we read the well- 
known lines : 

" Take him for all in all, 
We shall not look upon his like again." 

Even the china from which we took our break- 
fast was ornamented with views of the birthplace. 

You never saw any place more carefully pre- 
served than the house in Henley Street. The 
custodian says they do not like a grain of plaster 
to fall off and be lost. We noted the old fire-place 
where he sat and watched the glowing embers, 






THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. I 6 I 

with brain teeming with the poetic creations of his 
fancy, examined the desk where he first conned 
lessons and then wrote, and saw the ring believed 
to have been his own seal and signet. In the 
museum is an odd, courteous letter, addressed to 
him, and a fine portrait, the gift of Mr. Hunt, 
which none dare copy. A handsome library of 
the various editions of his works lines one side of 
the wall, and on the other is a book-case filled 
with two hundred and thirteen volumes of com- 
mentaries on the plays. They are in manuscript 
from the pen of J. O. Halliwell, who brought and 
placed them there with the restriction that no use 
is to be made of them until after his death. There 
are many interesting mementos which various dis- 
tinguished men have contributed, autograph let- 
ters of Garrick, Jonson, and our own Washington 
Irving. In a word, any and every memento which 
can possibly throw light on the early life of the 
poet is sacredly treasured. Across the field 
about a mile distant is Shottery, where in a pretty 
cottage embosomed in "trees and surrounded by 
pleasant pastures he went to woo Anne Hatha- 
way. I wonder if he did it after the impassioned 
manner of Romeo, or showed at some fancied 



j62 a SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

slight the fierce jealousy of Othello ? Tradition 
tells us that she had neither the beauty of Juliet 
nor the grace of Rosalind, but in after-years de- 
veloped somewhat the traits of Katharine. Be 
that as it may, would any but a love-sick swain 
sing, 

" Doubt thou the stars are fire, 

Doubt that the sun doth move, 
Doubt truth to be a liar, 
But never doubt I love" ? 

We have nothing reliable in regard to the trials 
and discomforts of his domestic life ; his works 
tell no tale of suffering, and he sleeps peacefully 
in the picturesque church upon Avon, with his 
kindred about him, and the world doing homage 
at the shrine. No one dare raise the stone for 
" fear of the curse," says the story, and with the 
sweetly solemn strains of the organ filling our 
ears, we sat us down there and mused how much 
more immortal than life was genius. 

From Stratford we made rather a circuitous 
journey through Derbyshire, that we might see 
Chatsworth, poetically termed the Palace on the 
Peak, said to be, and deservedly so, the hand- 
somest place in England. The owner, the Duke 



THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. 



163 



of Devonshire, is a man of immense fortune, and 
possesses, it is said, ninety thousand acres. He 
has been a widower thirty-five years, and has 
three sons and a daughter. The heir, the Marquis 
of Hartington, is unmarried, and quite prominent 
in political circles. On the estate is Edensor, a 
model village, if we may judge from external ap- 
pearance. The church, the school-house, and the 
green first strike your eye. The houses, neatly 
built, picturesquely situated, and each surrounded 
by a garden well filled with fruit and flowers, show 
the true picture of English cottage life. We can 
scarcely convey a tithe of the magnificence of the 
palatial private home of the family. The apart- 
ments are hung with velvet, satin, tapestry, and 
embossed leather, the doorways and chapel are 
of Derbyshire marble, with exquisite wood carv- 
ings by Gibbon. There are pictures by Landseer 
and statues by Canova. Vases of Sevres, tables 
of malachite and Labrador spar, gifts of china and 
silver from the different crowned heads of Europe, 
coronation chairs, ormolu clocks, Louis Quatorze 
furniture, rare old musical instruments, each in 
itself a fortune, yet an inconsiderable part of the 
great wealth of this one man. The grounds arc 



164 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

handsomely decorated, and in the immense park 
herds of deer, hares, rabbits, and pheasants are 
found. The houses of the tenantry betoken thrift 
and good management, for the duke is said to be 
a model land-owner as well as benevolent man. 

After seeing the compactness and finish of Eng- 
land's rural homes, I will never blame her people 
for not being more enthusiastic over the great 
straggling grandeur of the scenery of the New 
World. Too late, I fear, will we realize how 
ruthlessly in our love of gain we are sacrificing 
great tracts of timber and neglecting to plant by 
the wayside. We may never equal them in the 
culture of grass and flowers, but, considering our 
years, we have indeed made giant strides in the 
arts and manufactures. They are beginning to 
<* realize our greatness, to feel proud of our attain- 
ments, to long to know the fascination which our 
republican government has for its subjects, and 
in the many weeks in which I have traveled from 
coast to coast I have been struck not only by the 
intelligence of the people, but by the great kindli- 
ness of feeling they manifest towards their way- 
ward child, America. 



XIV. 

SCOTLAND. 

Edinburgh — The People — Intemperance — The Trossachs — Lochs 
Lomond and Katrine — Lake Windermere. 

Scotland is indissolubly connected with the 
valor of Wallace and Bruce, and the efforts of the 
people to shake off the rule of England form an 
important historical chapter. The pens of Scott 
and Burns have made the world familiar with the 
beauty of the mountain and lake scenery, and the 
sad story of their lovely and hapless Queen Mary 
has been dramatized and wept over by many gen- 
erations. It would be impossible to imagine a city 
more picturesquely situated than Edinburgh. She 
crowns the hill and fills the valley, and consists of 
heights and hollows, acclivities and ravines. Each 
house, so far as appearance goes, might be a castle, 
and the various statues and monuments tend to 
beautify the city as well as perpetuate the names 

15 i 6 5 



!66 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

which they bear. The Highlanders of stalwart 
frame, bare-legged, and each in the dress of his 
clan, the old men with bagpipes, and the windows 
gay with tartans and plaids, all tell you the story of 
Scotchland. The people are social and agreeable, 
delight in making you acquainted with their na- 
tional characteristics, and warmly welcome you in 
their earnest old-time manner. Intemperance is the 
bane of the country, acknowledged so on every 
side, and many remedies except the right one pro- 
posed to stop the evil. In the House of Commons 
Mr. Disraeli stands up and regrets the sad increase 
of drink among working-people, and in the neigh- 
boring town of Wigan a clergyman is applying for 
license to sell liquor. I sat down to a lunch which 
consisted of bread, cheese, Scotch whisky, brandy, 
and wine, and the gray-haired man who presided 
reverently asked God to bless what was spread 
before us, and then proceeded to mix "toddy" for 
his daughters. At another time a man who was 
denouncing the want of religion among the French, 
and their disregard of the Sabbath, emptied two 
bottles of wine, explaining as he did so that " we 
Glasgow men are very thirsty fellows," apparently 
forgetful that it was God's own day he was de- 



SCOTLAND. 



167 



bauching. We live in what is comparatively a 
temperance country, a fact which I believe mainly 
due to the persistent efforts of the women of our 
land. Here they prescribe liquor when you are 
sick and when you are well, for cold and for heat, 
for fatigue or lack of spirits, on account of the 
damp climate, to cure nervousness and to induce 
sleep, which excuses may all be summed up in 
one phrase, they use it freely because they like it. 
The wine bottle or mug is given to the child 
scarce able to walk, the wife hands the steaming 
kettle to the husband that he may brew a "jorum" 
of punch for both, and brothers and sisters sit and 
sip convivially together. The absence of " some- 
thing to drink" is a lack of hospitality. In Glas- 
gow, which an Englishman of note described to 
me as the most " drunken city" in Great Britain, 
and which one of their orators the other day char- 
acterized as " running a hard race with Liverpool 
and Birmingham for brutality #nd degradation in 
this particular," the people are so God-fearing that 
they allow no public travel on Sunday. In reply 
to any remonstrance they tell you that moderation 
is the only thing to be observed, that you might 
as well legislate or prescribe what a man shall eat 
15* 



1 68 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 

as what he shall drink, but the flashing eye, the 
thick half-maudlin accents, and the odd snatches 
of songs which come floating up the hotel corri- 
dors tell the story of some who o'erstep the 
bounds of prudence. The streets of the manu- 
facturing towns are full of sad, sorrowful sights, 
men and boys fighting and reeling, and women 
half clothed, surrounded by their children, yet 
filling the air with foul cries. 

It is desecration of a country grandly beautiful, 
easy of culture, and rich in productions and manu- 
factures. 

The people of the Highlands are proud of their 
descent and achievements, and rather affect to 
despise their neighbors of the low and coast 
counties. It is said that they think the Queen 
should be a proud woman, since the Princess 
Louise made so fine a match as the Marquis of 
Lome. "Are you a mechanic?" queried some 
one. " No, sir," was the indignant reply : " I am 
a Macgregor." 

We crossed the Trossachs, a wild, wooded, 
craggy gorge, where Fitz James lost his " gallant 
grey," and sailed down Lochs Katrine and Lo- 
mond. You remember 



i6g 



SCOTLAND. 

The boat had touched this silver strand 
Just as the hunter left his stand, 
And stood concealed amid the brake, 
To view this Lady of the Lake." 



Ben Lomond spreads northward and overhangs 
the lake most of the -way. We did not climb its 
side, although the way was temptingly spread 
with heather, but we thoroughly enjoyed the deli- 
cious loveliness of the scene, and thought, with 
the poet, — 

" Here Nature's works alone are seen, 
No cultivation by the hand of man." 

We have chosen Windermere, the gem of Eng- 
lish lakes, as our last resting-place. Here in this 
charming pastoral district lived Wordsworth, Cole- 
ridge, and DeQuincey. The neighboring country 
is full of delightful excursions by water, coach, or 
on foot. We will tarry a few days, but when we 
turn to take a parting look at the landscape we 
will not say, with Gray, " We had almost a mind 
to go back again," for the beacon which lures us 
is home, and the ocean looks neither so wide nor 
so deep as to affright us. 

We have traveled over many miles, seen and 



iy Q A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



studied much that was famous and grand in art 
and architecture. Human nature has afforded us 
thought, admiration, and amusement. Each nation 
has its peculiar characteristics, some of which are 
worthy of imitation, others to be avoided and 
denounced. The name American is in many sec- 
tions a synonym for foolish boasting and reckless 
extravagance. We have endeavored to correct 
erroneous impressions which such conduct has 
created, and in reply to many inquiries to tell the 
true story of our national greatness, not deny our 
faults, admire wherein they excel us, acknowledge 
that we are young in literature and the arts, prove 
to them that our late war was a battle for the 
right, speak a good word for the Centennial, and 
answer a hundred questions which show how 
little they understand the magnitude and extent 
of our country. 



THE END. 






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